


Sympathy For the Devil

by charleslehnsherr



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Andrew Garfield is my Peter Parker, BAMF Peter Parker, Blow Jobs, Bottom Peter Parker/Top Wade Wilson, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Completed, Kidnapping, M/M, Protective Wade, Second Chapter is the Smut, Stripper!Peter, THERE IS NON-CON IN THIS FIC, Wade Eats Ass, Wade Wilson Breaking the Fourth Wall, twice!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-08 09:00:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14690796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charleslehnsherr/pseuds/charleslehnsherr
Summary: Peter Parker gave up on being Spider-Man years ago when he realized how he was endangering his loved ones.Now, he works as a stripper to make money for College. Right as he's about to accept Spidey is long gone from his life, the Avengers walk into his life with a loud-mouthed merc - claiming an underground association called the DNA is after him, and that they need his help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> \- I do not own any of these characters, but I do own the plot =) Please don't plagiarize. 
> 
> \- TW: I don't believe there are any. 
> 
> \- This fic has yet to be 100% edited. 
> 
> \- Chapter One = The Entire Fic!
> 
> \- Chapter Two = Bonus fic.

_ 12:30 AM. _

 

Peter should be sleeping. 

If not sleeping, he should be revising his Physics vocabulary terms, studying for the Spanish midterm he needed to pass in order to get an A in the class,  _ or _ if he wasn’t being a good student, he should’ve been eating since he had not eaten since three o’clock in the afternoon, and his head is to feel a bit dizzy. He isn’t doing anything to help himself, though. Instead, he’s in the rank bar on the far end of town buried away from street lights. Well, it gives him money, so. Maybe it does help, but it doesn’t help his dignity. 

Today his costume is more comfortable than his other ones, but still revealing. He’s wearing a see-through white-tee that’s split down the middle, bearing his stomach; along with frilly red and white shorts that show off his long legs. He’s barefoot only because his boss demanded him so. 

It isn’t the sexiest costume, but it gives off that  _ boyfriend who just woke up in bed  _ vibe so men older than him by ten years were drooling at the mouth when they saw him — some courageous enough to reach out and grope him as he carries drinks to other tables. 

Maybe he should’ve worked at a strip-bar where only women were allowed in. Peter may not like girls, but he’s almost sure the lack of testosterone would be more pleasant, and the clients would touch him less. 

“Parker,” his boss barks as he lays down the drinks for the men at table nine. They leer at him as he walks away, and he ignores the pleas for him to come back. “I have a fella here asking for you. Says he wants a private show.” 

Peter’s chest sinks to the floor. “I’m not on lap dance time,” he says. 

“Well,” Jonah holds up a wad of cash, splitting it right down the middle and tossing it to the smaller male, who catches it with clumsy hands. It’s a wad of twenties _.  _ “He paid a shit ton of money. One thousand dollars. I’m sure that the five hundred dollars in your hand will change your mind on skipping out on him. With the clothes you come in with? Geez. I would be lucky to have a man like that rut against my ass. You might even get yourself a sugar daddy!”

Peter’s mind short-circuits, especially since he has nowhere to hide the money on his person. He clears his throat and decides to just clutch it in his hands. If he gave it back to Jonah, another 50% would be cut off and he’d be left with 250 instead of 500, which is his monthly rent. 

“I’ll go,” he confirms to his boss. 

He brushes past the man and into the back rooms. One of the workers, Quinn, confirms the man waiting for him is in booth five. 

Booth five is the darkest room that they have for lap dances. Peter had to give one in there once and came out lucky, but other people have come out crying for being groped and pushed past their boundaries which had Jonah lose customers since he had to throw out the guys that did it. While Jonah was passive aggressive, he treated his workers well. If they ever came to him with a problem, he always ended up looking out for them. Since Peter was the youngest on staff - he never had some big problem. 

At least until now, something in the back of his head told him. 

The room is dark besides a single red strobe light. Peter walks in confidently as he is told to, gently pushing the door open and taking long strides towards the man. He’s faced away from him, legs open, and dark black hair slicked back and curling at the bottom. Alarms are ringing off in Peter’s head as he tucks the money in his underwear. 

He rubs at the bracelets around his wrists, ready to use his web shooters if needed. 

Once he’s a hair away from the man he lets one hand rest on his shoulders, softly running across his back as he gingerly climbs into his lap. 

“Hi,” he whispers, adjusting himself so he’s sitting directly on the man’s crotch. Peter could easily have the man dead in seconds, he can’t help but think. He also can’t help but think the man could also have Peter dead within seconds. “I didn’t think someone like me could pick up someone so handsome.”

The man is handsome, even if he seems to have gone through a terrible accident. Half of his face is melted but you can still see the man he once was underneath all the skin grafts. 

“My name is Frank, doll,” He greets, one hand going straight to Peter’s ass to grope and the other running through his messy, softly conditioned hair. “I couldn’t help but want you when I came in.”

“Well,” Peter says, breath hitching when the man -  _ Frank,  _ he said - ran the pad of his thumb over the small boys lips. “Now that you have me, how do you want me?” 

A shiver runs down his spine when the man all but forces the thumb into his mouth. He allows his tongue to curl around it and ignores the need to bite at him and shove away. The man gives a grin. 

“Good boy,” He reassures. “Why don’t you show me some of that flexibility of yours, Peter?”

Peter can’t allow the man to see the fear flash along his face.  _ How does he know my name? _

He lets the thumb fall from his mouth and reaches up to take it in his hand. “No problem,” He breathes. Then, clutching the hand in his tightly, enough to break bone, he smashes the bulk of his forehead into Frank’s nose - hearing a satisfying crack fill the room. 

He blocks the incoming blow coming from Frank’s free hand and shifts so his knee is pressing in to the poor man’s cock. 

“Who are you?” Peter demands. The man moves to grab at him but Peter is stronger. “You have one more second to answer -  _ who are you? _ ”

Frank grins, the blood trickling from his nose which is already bruising and tilts his head to the side.

“I’m with them.”

There’s no time to prepare for an incoming because there’s no signal. One minute, Peter is straddling the man with a full restraint against him, and the next - he’s being blown into the wall. He can feel his spine complain, eyes shaking as he looks at the spot where he once was. 

_ Great,  _ Peter thinks.  _ Now I have to bring Spidey out without a mask! _

He bangs both of his wrists against the floor and they’re opening; a thin metal spreading out and clutching down to the edge of his palm and the base of his wrist. There are men flooding into the room, guns in hand. 

Peter aims for the closest one and shoots - the web sticking to it. He uses it as a lasso, swinging it from his hand and letting it smack into the temple of the man next to him before swinging it back and knocking the man who once held it out. He wraps the webs around his wrist and yanks the gun towards him, cradling it in his hands as he throws his legs over his shoulder and lands into a crouch. 

_ I feel like my balls are hanging out,  _ Peter can’t help but think, the revealing attire making the heaviness of defense uncomfortable.  _ Oh well, nothing nobody has ever seen before.  _

“Get that bitch and leave,” Frank grumbles from the opposite side of the room. There’s dust covering his body, and crumpled pieces of concrete layered around him. “Get that fucking insect and  _ leave! _ ”

Peter shoots a web to the ceiling and jumps up, sticking to it stealthily with one hand as the gun in his other dangles by a thread. He drops the gun and shoots a web towards another corner of the room and swings like it’s a vine, using one leg stretched out to kick one of the men into another. There’s around ten of them, but not all of them are armed. 

_ Guess they thought I wouldn’t put up a fight,  _ Peter thinks to himself with a huff. He’s over aware of every heartbeat that fills the room and focuses on them instead of the panicking happening outside of the club. He’s surprised nobody’s come into the room, but he’s assuming Jonah was hustling people out of his club so he couldn’t get any refunds. 

One of the men with a gun comes at him firing, but Peter is quicker than he is. As soon as two bullets skim past him with no harm he’s got the barrel of it stuffed with webs and pulling him towards him to send a swift hook to his temple. He shoves the man into two others before webbing them together, causing them to yell in confusion.

_ Straight men,  _ Peter jokes to himself as he moves on to the last seven in the room.  _ Never wanting to touch each other.  _

From the corner of his eye, he can see three men getting Frank to stand up and leave the room. 

“Okay,” Peter tells himself. “Don’t let the apple get out of the tree.” 

It’s like he’s fourteen again - getting into fights with kids twice his age, all because he has some fancy tech that can shoot tightly knitted webs and his strength is greater than the average man. When he was fourteen he also gave himself dumb mission orders, such as  _ don’t let the apple get out of the tree.  _

Peter moves towards Frank but a man is already in front of him, pressing a gun to his forehead.

“I would really love to chat, and do some sneaky move,” Peter says, quickly squatting down and hitting the gun up so the trigger-happy man’s bullet would shoot the ceiling before he gives a harsh blow to the stomach and disarms him. “But I have places to be and things to do.” He brings the man’s arm over his shoulder, reaches a hand around to grab him by the end of his pants, and throws him over and onto the ground. 

When he turns on Frank, a ball is being thrown at him. Like anyone would do, he catches it.    
“What’s this?” He asks, with a snort. Frank is flashing bloody teeth at him. 

“You’ll find out when it explodes.” 

Peter’s eyes widen and he moves to throw it at Frank but they’re already leaving the building in the hole they’ve blown through. He hauls ass to try and jump them but one of their men turns around and shoots, causing him to jump up and onto the ceiling. 

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. He drops the ball in the process, and shoots a web out to the hole in the wall but they seem to have a counter for every move he makes. A gun is fired at the webs and an electrical current waves through it, sending a shock to Peter’s chest. 

He yells in pain and drops to the floor, feeling something cut his face and landing hard on his knee. Through blurry vision, he can see the men getting Frank into the car and storming off. 

Peter coughs and rolls over onto his back, before hearing a beep. 

“Oh, fuck you,” he tells the ball before throwing it outside. Instead of an explosion, a gas emits through the air. 

He lays there for what seems to be years before sitting up. He listens closely to hear someone shuffling outside of the booth. Quickly, he walks on all fours to the corner before climbing up onto the walls and crouching in the corner. 

A man in a red suit walks in, holding a gun. He huffs out loud. 

“Yo, where’s Spidey?” He yells, before lifting it up and firing it into the ceiling.

_ This day just can’t get worse now, can it? _

Peter silently creeps along the ceiling before he’s only an angle away from being above the man. He webs the guns barrel before falling down, hands over his eyes and pressing down and thighs wrapped over his face. 

“Who are you?” Peter demands, clenching his thighs. He honestly wishes he could suffocate this man to death, but that’s against his morals. Also, he’s tired. “What do you people  _ want? _ ”

He clenches his thighs one last time before relaxing, only for the man to reach up, grip his thighs, lean forward, and slam Peter onto the floor underneath him. Peter yanks the mask off of the man as he goes down, throwing it to the side so he can see the man’s face. Just like Frank, he must’ve been in an accident - but his looked ten times worse. Scars were all over his skin, and a Hello Kitty band-aid was covering what probably was a healing cut on his chin. 

Angrily, he reaches down, grips Peter by the throat and picks him up. He walks to the wall and all but smashes him against it, causing the smaller boy’s spine to wail in pain once more.

“You’re pretty cute,” he says. It doesn’t really come out like a compliment though. It comes out more like he’s threatening to kill Peter’s cat. “So I’m going to let that go. But if you  _ ever  _ take my mask off like that again, I  _ will  _ kill you.” 

Peter scratches at the man’s wrist, trying to drag air back into his body. He’s only let go when he nods violently, and when he is, he falls to his knees - letting in a deep inhale. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking up at the man. “Just - who the fuck are you?” 

The man smirks and squats down in front of Peter, their eyes meeting. “I’m Wade, baby boy. I was sent to come fetch you. Don’t worry, I’m on the good guy side.”

And  _ fuck  _ did Peter wish he didn’t apply for this job. 

_ 1:55 AM. _

Wade pulls his mask back on before wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders and escorting him out of the building. They leave through the front door instead of the hole in the wall since Wade is a gentleman, or something like that. Peter can’t understand how cops were not called in the mess. Wade had cleared the building out, which is code for  _ he fucking slaughtered all the bad guys and got the good people out, not hesitating to threaten to kill them if they contacted the authorities.  _ There were some people on the floor, faces bloody and bones broken. 

“Did you do this?” Peter asks, looking up at Wade. 

There’s a small shrug and when Peter goes to look deeper into the bar, he steers him away from it. “Maybe,” he responds. “There were all the people working for that Frank guy, if it makes you feel any better.” 

Peter doesn’t say anything and soon he’s being lead into a sleek, white escalade. 

“Stark sure does have nice cars,” Wade says as he gets in the back seat with him. There’s enough room for the both of them but Wade sits close, and Peter can’t help but feel the warmth of his body radiating onto him. Peter’s skin is still revealed everywhere, which sucks, so he tries to subtly rub his forearms to warm himself up. “Hey, Happy. Only twelve people died. Tell tin man we’re on our way.”

Peter blinks at the man in the driver seat gives a thumbs up before starting up the car. 

“Tinman?” He says, dumbfounded. “Like from the Wizard of Oz?” 

“Yeah,” Wade leans to the side and starts rustling through the snacks that are on the side of the door. “Man wears all metal, so. It fits.” 

Peter gives a curt nod before looking out the window or at least trying to. It’s so dark he can’t even see outside, and part of his mind tells him in New York, that should be illegal. 

“Bulletproof,” Wade says, pulling out a box of Skittles and pulling the tab off so he can pour some into his hand. “Sun proof, people proof. Pretty much everything proof.” 

Using his free hand he takes the bottom of his mask and curls it up to his nose, exposing his mouth. Peter can tell he doesn’t like his face being seen so he looks down at his lap. The soft hair lining along his thighs are standing up, and he presses his palms into them and feels how cold he is. 

“Yo, Happy,” Wade yells around a mouthful of Skittles, red-colored drool dripping from the side of his mouth. “Can you make it hotter in here or something? The kid is in his stripper uniform, so his skin is like... _ there. _ ”

Peter huffs, but is grateful for the warmth that starts blowing from out of the air ducts. He shuffles closer to them, wishing he had a warm blanket to wrap around him. 

“I’m not a stripper,” Peter says. “I just dress like one.” 

“You’re a stripper, baby boy,” Wade reaches into one of his pockets, spandex squeaking loudly as he does so. He pulls out his phone and unlocks it, shuffling around in some apps before shoving it into Peter’s face. It’s Peter on stage, wearing a speedo and shiny with oil as dollar bills are being flung to the floor. In the moment, Peter is fine when it comes to stripping - but if he has to watch it, God…

His cheeks burn red and he snatches Wade’s phone out of his hand. 

“How the fuck do you delete this?” he asks, using his free hand to block Wade’s attempts to get his phone back and bringing the phone upwards. 

“Hey,” Wade whines, dodging a smack that Peter aims towards his cheek. “That’s in my fapping material box. Just so you know, I’ve probably blasted all over my phone to you more times than I can count!” 

Peter throws the phone back at him in disgust, cradling his hand towards his chest. “You’re despicable,” 

“Or,” Wade says, locking his phone and placing it back into his squeaky spandex pocket. “I just know when a fine ass is around. And you, my dear Petey, have the finest ass of all - especially since you’re Spider-Man.” 

Peter tenses at the name of his alter-ego, lips curling downwards. “I am not Spider-Man.” 

“Well,” Wade says, leaning over close to Peter. “You look like him, talk like him, act like him...baby, you  _ are  _ him.” 

Peter resists the urge to spit in Wade’s face. “Yes, I do. And you talk and act like a douchebag, does that make you one?” 

“Yes!” Wade accepts, leaning back and throwing his arms up in the air before letting them drop to his thighs. “Now you’re getting it!” 

Peter really wishes he stayed in bed this morning. 

_ 2:15 AM _

Peter has no idea where he is since the windows are too dark to see out of, and Wade won’t tell him anything. The normal bells that go off when danger is near are silent though so that must be a good thing. He’s doing fairly well for someone who was technically kidnapped by what he found out is a mercenary.  _ Killin’ for money baby,  _ Wade had said.  _ Kind of like what you do, except there’s more blood.  _ Peter had merely rolled his eyes and hadn’t spoken another word sense, even if Wade seemed to be talking to himself. 

It feels like they’re in the car for years before the ride starts to slow to a stop. 

“We’re here!” Wade sings. “Oh, I was instructed to put a blindfold on you.” 

Peter growls as a blindfold is being wrapped around his eyes, using his long nails to scratch at the man’s suit. “Oh fuck you,” he spits, surrounded by darkness. “I’ll still be able to kick your ass.” 

“Well you weren’t able to the first time,” is the snarky response. “So why would you be able to now?” 

The smaller male allows himself to mentally roll his eyes and be taken from the car. Wade is a little handsy, accidentally brushing his hands against his ass multiple times before he settles behind Peter, hands gripping his waist tightly.    
“Walk forward,” Wade says. Peter sighs and walks forward, the man behind him following behind in half, waddled-like penguin steps. “My God, I love my job.” 

Wade gives him directions - and Peter is forced to trust him since he doesn’t know where he is. He can sense others around them, but says nothing. He bites his tongue and turns right, left, or keeps going straight if the mercenary tells him to. 

When he stops walking and there’s a lurch up, he knows they’re in an elevator. 

“Can I take my blindfold off?” Peter asks. 

“No,” Wade says. “You’re lucky they just wanted a blindfold and not chloroform.”    
Peter lets out a huff of breath at him deepening his voice, finding this whole situation to be more  _ annoying  _ than  _ terrifying.  _ He can feel Wade’s chest behind him, and is aware of how short he is compared to the man. He knows this only because a chin is laid on the top of his head and Wade coos about how soft his hair is. Peter brings his arm up and around to hit the mercenary but only catches air. 

“Don’t be mad, it’s cute.” 

There’s a ding and the Wade is pinching at his sides, which makes him hiss. “Walk forward,” He demands. “You’re about to meet your maker.”

Peter follows Wade’s directions before another voice is joining. 

“Oh, God,” it’s saying. And then there’s laughter coming from Wade. “We said to  _ talk  _ to him, not to kidnap him!”

The blindfold is coming off and harsh lights fill his senses, causing him to squint and look around to adjust to his surroundings. He’s in a large room with glass walls showing off other rooms besides it. There’s a long table in front of him made of shiny, mahogany wood that could seat at least 20 people. Peter blinks when he sees those who are seated in the chairs. 

“The Avengers?” He asks, dumbfounded. He knew them once upon a time, but only once. There were aliens attacking Manhattan and the ever so pure Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man just had to save the day. He fought mostly with Iron Man and Doctor Strange, who appeared to not be at the table. 

Iron Man - Tony Stark - was, though. He was sitting at the head of the table with sunglasses propped over his nose. 

Captain America looks over. “Tony, I swear to God if you fell asleep.”

There’s a silence and then Hawkeye - Peter never really met him but was almost gutted by his arrow once - reaches over to smack Tony across the head. The man jerks, sunglasses tipping off his nose as his eyes snap open. 

“Wow, Cap,” Tony takes his glasses off and rubs at his eyes. “That’s a record for shortest nap ever taken.”

“Wilson is here,” Captain says, ignoring his teammate’s stupidity. “He decided to put Spider-Man in a blindfold, and act as if this were  _ Taken _ .”

“Wow,” Wade says from behind him. His hands are still on Peter’s hips, and he’s too afraid to smack them away from him. “I thought you were still in the 50s.”

“Get your nasty hands off of him, Wilson,” Tony says, standing up from his seat and sliding his sunglasses back on. They materialize into a lighter, orange tinted shade, and Peter can actually see his eyes. “We need to talk business.”

“Sorry, sir,” Wade says, hands dropping from Peter’s hip. He crosses into Peter’s peripheral vision and goes to sit down to Scarlet Witch, who subtly shifts away from him. “When are we  _ ever  _ here to talk business?” 

Tony chooses to ignore that and looks towards Peter. “So, Peter Parker. Spider-Man.”

“I’m not Spider-Man,” Peter says. “I don’t know what you want, but I am not looking for a fight. I’m just trying to go to college, get my degree, and hopefully get a job at Oscorp.”

Tony snorts. “Oscorp is trash,” 

“He’s not lying,” Wade pipes up. “Your best friend Harry’s father owns it in like all the television shows, and tries to kill you multiple times.”

“Don’t give him any attention,” Tony speaks when Peter is about to ask  _ what television show?  _ “It only makes him worse.”

“He’s not lying,” Wade says. “Why do you think I only read my own Fanfiction?” 

“Shut up,” Black Widow growls. It seems none of the Avengers except Tony speaks. Peter can recognize them all - Captain, Iron Man, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Vision, and Scarlet Witch. Some of them he knew were missing, and other knew just from the news. Scarlet Witch and Vision weren’t speaking, just...staring. A very intent stare, as well.

“What do you mean you aren’t Spider-Man?” Hawkeye asks.

“He’s going rogue,” Wade answers. “He decided he wants to be an insect instead. I said Grasshopper-Boy fits him better than Spider-Man.”

Peter decides webbing Wade’s mouth shut was the best solution, so he does so. 

“It means,” he grits through his teeth, crossing his arms. “I left Spider-Man behind. Yes, I was once Spider-Man, but I’m  _ no longer  _ Spider-Man.”

“God I love him,” Tony says, before tapping Cap on the shoulder. “Am I allowed to adopt him?” 

“You can’t adopt a legal adult,” Captain snips.

“Can you guys seriously tell me what I’m doing here?” Peter asks. “Like honestly, I can’t exactly escape since you’ll all tag team me and I’m pretty rusty, so I would like to know. Also it’s cold, and I’m barely wearing anything.”

Scarlet Witch blushes when she seems to notice Peter’s bare stomach for the first time, and then a large sweater wrapped in red energy floats his way. 

“Thank you,” He says, grabbing it. He slips his thin shirt off and pulls it over his head. It’s warm, falls to his knees, and has  _ Stark Industries  _ written on it in bold white letters. At least now he has a souvenir to remember he was kidnapped by the Avengers. 

He glances over when Wade lets out a muffled yell. He unsheathed one of the Katanas that took home on his back and was cutting his face trying to get the webs off. Blood was seeping in between his fingers and down his arm. 

“Jesus,” Peter says as Cap intervenes, walking to Wade and snatching the Katana out of his grasp. When Wade goes to reach for the other one still settled in it’s home, Captain takes that one away from him too. 

“Stop making this about you,” Captain snaps, walking back to his seat and placing the katanas on the table as if he confiscated a toy from a child. “It’s two in the morning and I need sleep.” 

Wade crosses his arms and pouts. 

“Technically, you don’t need sleep.” 

Captain gives a pointed glare at Tony. 

“Can we please get on with this?” Scarlet Witch asks from her spot. Peter notices none of them are in uniform, but in pajamas. “I didn’t wake up for you all to fool around like children.” 

“I second Wanda,” Vision says. Peter is kind of surprised it doesn’t sound robotic. 

“Well fine,” Tony says. “I’ll give him the summarized version, let us all get a good night’s rest and then we can discuss strategies in the morning, that good?” 

An affirmative  _ yes  _ sweeps across the table. 

“Well,” Peter says. “I’m waiting.”

“That man,  _ Frank _ ,” Tony spits his name out as if it’s venom. “Is apart of an underground association called the DNA. They’re pretty much a wannabe Weapon X program. They find those with altered DNA - mutants, as they’re known - and take their blood, experiment, and try to inject chemicals to heighten their powers.” 

Peter inhales deeply. “So, if he had gotten a hold of me; I would’ve been Wolverine 2.0?”

“Well,” Vision says, but stops talking when Wanda whispers something about not wanting to get off track. 

“Kind of,” Tony says. “We’ve been tracking them for months. They’re practically as good as Hydra - able to hide in plain sight, kick ass and take names without anyone noticing until months after they’ve gotten what they’ve needed. We recently found one of their headquarters and saw some files of people they were going after. Wade was one of them, as were some other X-Men.” 

Wade gives a wave, to which Peter gives a half-assed smile to. 

“How did they even remember me?” Peter asks. “I haven’t been seen since my Senior year of high school when I’ve decided to quit. Now I’m a sophomore in college, that’s been about three years, almost four.” 

Tony taps on the side of his glasses and a hologram pops up in front of them. It’s a handful of articles, all of them having to do with Spider-Man. 

_ Where is Spider-Man?  _ One asks.  _ Spider-Man Sightings Lowered,  _ says another. His favorite is the one from the low end newspaper that always attacked superheroes.  _ Spider-Man? More like Schmider-Man! _

“A world doesn’t forget a hero like you,” Tony says. 

Suddenly Peter can imagine everything he’s gone through - the pain of losing MJ, the pain of his Aunt May being kidnapped and tortured, and of course his mind’s favorite memory, the death of his Uncle Ben. He clears his throat and frowns slightly. 

“You guys are heros,” he says. “I was just some kid who didn’t know what he was doing, and didn’t think about the ones he loved along the way.” 

There’s an awkward silence before Hawkeye is the one to break the silence. 

“Look kid, I know you’re trying to protect people, but take it from me; the worst way to do that is to disappear on the world. Now you have the DNA lusting after you like a dog in heat, so you’re going to have to confront the fact you still are Spider-Man one way or another, whether you want to or not.” 

Peter stays silent, and Wade starts screaming through his webs, muffled. Wanting to take some anger out, Peter walks over and rips the web off of him, causing him to scream. 

“It wasn’t even touching your skin,” Black Widow says in amazement. 

“Whatever,” Wade goes, before standing up and clasping a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “This was getting way too angsty for my taste. Now that Peter knows what’s up, can we sleep on it and discuss it in the morning? I don’t do well on no sleep.”

“You don’t need sleep either,” Tony claims. “But sure. Sleep with give us nothing but crankiness.” 

“Good.” 

Wade starts to usher Peter out of the door. “I’ll show Spidey to his room.” 

“Don’t make him share a room with you, Pool,” Wanda says from behind. 

Wade lets out a curse, before continuing. 

_ 3:02 AM. _

Peter is in the room between Thor and Vision. Thor’s room is empty, but Wade warns him Vision sometimes goes through walls, and has no concept of personal space whatsoever.  _ If it makes you feel better,  _ Wade says,  _ he was born of purity, so I’m positive he wouldn't be perving up on you. Can’t say the same for myself.  _ Peter scoffs and gets accustomed to his room, looking through the doors, identify the TV controls, and locating the bathroom before he makes Wade leave.

He settles into his bed, and he falls asleep into a deep sleep - just as easy as he did before when he still played Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. 

_ 9:30 AM. _

Peter wakes up to a red mask with black tints staring directly at him. His fight or flight response kicks in quicker than his memory and he punches Wade in the nose, hearing a satisfying crack come from the harsh impact. He immediately switches to guilty, letting out a  _ oh my God, I am so sorry  _ before tossing his bed sheets away from him and leaning over to cradle the man’s face in his hands. There’s blood seeping into his mask, creating a wet and dark blob where his cupid arrow is supposed to be. 

“I’m so sorry,” Peter says, holding his face gently but not knowing what to do with it. “Oh my God, are you okay?” 

“Yeah I’m fine,” Wade says, and Peter can’t help but shiver at how low his voice is. “Honestly Pete, if you wanted to get freaky with me; all you had to do was ask.” 

Peter rolls his eyes and brings his hands down to push at the man, who tips over and falls onto his ass. “You know, I only cared for a split second, and that was only so  _ I  _ would look good.” 

He sniffs and drags a hand down his face, remembering he was still wearing the sweatshirt that Wanda had given him. He was suddenly aware of how dirty he was - sweat gathered up in his armpits, sweat dried on his skin, and BO radiating off his body very prominent. 

“I need to take a shower,” he tells Wade, hopping out of bed. “Do you know where I can get any clothes?”

Wade snaps his nose into place and stands up, letting out a low whistle of pain. Peter remembers Tony saying something about the X-Men, so Wade must have some sort of mutation.  _ Or maybe he just likes snapping his bones,  _ a dark part of his mind says. 

“Yeah,” Wade says. “I would go to tin man. Cap, Hawkeye, Vision and I seem a little too big for your likings.” 

Peter looks down at himself. He is small, smaller than most men his age, but that was only to make his powers more convenient. His face flushes when he looks up at Wade and, wow, he’s about five inches taller than Peter. Great. 

He hated being short. (Even if he was 5’8). 

“Awesome,” Peter says. “And where would Stark’s room be?” 

+++

When Wade takes him to Tony’s room, he reaches for the doorknob only to be smacked away by Peter. He lets out a whine as the younger of the two raises up to knock on the door. 

“Knocking is boring,” Wade grumbles, crossing his arms and pouting.

Peter rolls his eyes. “Well you are not the one who needs to be here, are you?” 

There’s a defeated silence. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

Peter knocks again, this time slightly louder.  _ Just a minute,  _ is called from inside of the room, and Peter has to wait two minutes or so before Iron Man opens the door. His room looks even larger than Peter’s, which is insane. His shirt is off and hung over one shoulder, a towel hangs low on his hips, and a toothbrush is dangling from his mouth. 

“What do you need kid?” he asks, grasping the toothbrush to scrub at his teeth. 

“I need clothes,” Peter says, crossing his arms. “I have to take a shower.” 

Tony gives a snap of his fingers and disappears into his room before coming back, holding a pair of boxers, a plain white tee, and fucking -  _ Hello Kitty pajama bottoms?  _

“Wade was in charge of buying me clothes once,” Tony explains, giving a pointed glare to the other man as Peter gingerly took the clothing. 

“And they looked just  _ fetching  _ on you!” 

Peter huffs as Tony gives an awkward salute to the men and shuts the door. 

Turning on his heel, he starts walking back to his room. When Wade continues to follow after him, he stops in his tracks and holds a fist to Wade’s chest. 

“I’m taking a shower, Wade.” 

Silence.

“You can’t follow me into the shower,” Peter explains. “You know that, correct?” 

“One day that’ll work.” 

Peter ignores the fact Wade has done this more than once and continues walking. 

_ 9:43 AM _

Showers seem to be the cure to everything. 

It takes Peter a while to figure out to turn the shower on, but then he notices the motion sensor sign in front of him and presses it, which sends a cold wave of water crashing down on him. He yelps and swipes his hand towards the red section and away from the blue, which cause a warmth to wash over him before boiling hot water burns his skin. It takes him for what feels like years before the water is warm, and not boiling hot or freezing cold. 

He runs his hands through his hair, the light brown hair turning black from the heavy water. There’s dozens of different toiletries to choose from - does he want mango body wash or coconut? Conditioner that will make him smell like tropical fruits, or will make him smell like a pure  _ man _ ? He doesn’t know what some of the smaller bottles are so he settles on using the coconut body wash first, enjoying the feel of the thick soap rubbing into his skin and the feel of dirt washing away. After he’s finished with the wash he decided against the aggressively manly shampoo and chose the pineapple. While he didn’t necessarily like pineapple, but it smelt better than the rest, so he allowed himself to pour a ton of it in his hair and lather it up quickly; his scalp thanking him for the soft massage it was receiving. 

As he continued on with his bath, he thought about what was going on, and what Tony had said. 

The DNA, they had called themselves - Weapon X wannabees. 

Anyone who was anyone knew who Wolverine was, what he went through. Wade must have suffered something similar, since Tony mentioned (well, implied) that he was an X-Men. Which would also imply he’s a mutant. But Peter - according to everyone else - isn’t a mutant, so why would they be targeting him? And why did the Avengers feel the need to save or help him? What were they even going to do? 

Overwhelmed by the suddenly fluster of questions with no answers he was asking himself, Peter quickly rinses his face and the conditioner out of his hair and turns the water off. He stares at the wall in silence before exiting to dry off. 

_ 10:03 AM _

“Hey, sweet-cheeks!” 

Peter jumps after he leaves the bathroom, this time not alarmed enough to punch Wade in the face. He grumbles a hello as he adjusts the web-shooters on his wrists and combs his fingers through his wet, clean hair. 

“You look good in Hello Kitty,” Wade says, reaching out and brushing his fingers down Peter’s thigh. “You should wear it more often.” 

“And you’re less annoying when you aren’t around,” Peter replies. “You should do that more often.” 

The taller man pretends to be hurt, cringing and clutching at his heart as if he’s been shot. “Harsh, Spidey. And here I was thinking we were on our road to becoming lovers.” 

Peter can’t help but laugh, covering his mouth with his hand. “ _ Very  _ far from lovers.” 

“Friends?” 

The smaller man halts, crossing his arms and looking up at Wade. “How about co-workers?” 

Wade sticks his hand out. “Co-workers!” 

Peter ignores his hand and continues to walk. “Where’s the food? I’m hungry.” 

_ We’re getting there,  _ Wade mumbles, before actually doing his job and escorting Peter to the kitchen. 

_ 10:08 AM _

Vision and Wanda are cooking breakfast when the two of them enter. Cap, Black Widow, and Hawkeye are all at the table - Cap reading the newspaper, Black Widow slumped with her head pressed to the table, and Hawkeye chewing on a piece of bread.

“Take a seat,” Wanda says, giving him a warm smile. “It’ll be ready in a few minutes.” 

Peter takes the seat furthest from the Avengers, but Wade follows him as if he’s attached to his hip; scooting his own chair closer to him and then putting his feet on the table and leaning back so he’s practically on top of the boy. 

“Oh, please,” Peter says, rolling his eyes. “This isn’t your home, get your feet off of the table.” 

Hawkeye gives a side-eye and Widow adjusts her head so she’s glaring at them through the crook of her elbow. 

“This isn’t even your home,” Wade says. “It’s mine.” 

“No,” Tony says as he walks in, ruffling the hair at the top of his head. “It’s  _ mine.  _ Parker is right, get your feet off the table. That’s a two thousand dollar table.” 

Cap folds his newspaper and yanks away from the table as if its fire, looking down at it. “ _ Two thousand? _ ” 

“Tony Stark doesn’t do cheap,” Iron Man replies, giving a wink to Peter as he pours his cup of coffee. 

“Well, you got Peter,” Wade teases. 

The smaller boy webs at his mouth again, and then there’s a muffling sound. 

“How does that even work if he has a mask to protect his mouth?” Hawkeye asks, confused. 

Peter shrugs. “I don’t care about the science, as long as he’s quiet, I’m good.” 

“Does that junk come from  _ you? _ ” Widow asks, eyeing at Peter’s wrist. 

“No,” He answers, and instead of showing off his web-shooters, he clicks them close and crosses his arms so his wrists aren’t visible. “I make them with special chemicals.”

“What chemicals?” Widow asks.

“Doesn’t matter,” Tony says, bringing the pot of coffee to the table along with a mug. He sits on the other side of Peter, and when his hands are free, he smacks one on his shoulder and squeezes. “I already know what it is, and I’ve already made you a suit.”

Peter’s face burns. “A suit?”

“You have to fight with us is something better than Hello Kitty pj’s, kid.”

“I have my own suit,” Peter says, refusing to take Stark’s own suit. “I made it myself.”

“Well I made this myself,” Tony says, taking a long sip from his coffee. “And I’m almost 100% positive it’s better than yours.” 

“Who ever said I’m going to be fighting?” Peter says back, ignoring the muffled yells now coming from Wade. “Technically, you all  _ kidnapped  _ me. Why would I have any reason to trust you?”

There’s a silence that sweeps over the table, and Captain is the one to speak. Tony isn’t phased by Peter’s reply, in fact - he doesn’t even seem to have heard it. All he does is look over at his teammates, raising one eyebrow to see which one wants to handle the teenager in the room. Which he isn’t, but whatever, Iron Man is old anyway. 

“Kid, no matter what you say, we’re protecting you.” Captain’s voice is nothing like Stark’s — it’s low and comforting, as if he’s speaking to his son. “If the DNA got a hold of you, which they almost did, you’d be nothing more than a lab rat to experiment on,”

“Well I got away just fine,”

“And what about the other people they’re after?” Captain responds, giving a moment of silence for it to sink into Peter. “What if they aren’t able to get away? They’ve already experimented on almost  _ hundreds _ , and only less than half survived. Those who lived were merely turned into slaves who they use to do their dirty work and continue. But no, I get it. If you live, who cares about anyone else, right?”

And  _ wow,  _ that’s harsh. Especially coming from Captain America. Peter doesn’t respond, reaching up to wipe at his nose and looking down, a damp strand of hair hanging in his peripheral vision. 

“Alright,” Peter finally says when he can’t stand everyone staring at him. “I get it. You need help to take down these idiot.”

He looks over to Wade, and can’t tell what’s going through his head because of that God forsaken mask. Peter rips it off just like he did before, wanting the attention off of him. 

“Thank you, baby boy,” Wade coos, reaching over and patting his head.

Peter smacks his hand away - which he seems to be doing quite a lot of lately - and grumbles. “I just wanted the attention on you, idiot.” 

Wade shrugs. “Fair enough.” 

“Breakfast is ready,” Wanda sings, walking into the tense atmosphere to place a bowl of Johnny Cakes on the table. Vision comes from behind, placing a plate of bacon besides it. “We made four fried eyes, and four scrambled, so you can choose whichever one you want.”

It only takes a moment for Vision to get the eight plates on the table, before heading back to get juice.

Peter’s stomach rumbles loudly, and he can’t remember the last time he ate — was it that granola bar he had on the train? Wait, no, he could’ve  _ sworn  _ Jonah had given him a chocolate bar before he started work, claiming he looked like a skeleton. Either way, the last thing he ate wasn’t real food. All manners out the window, his now shaking hands reach out to grab a plate of scrambled eggs, three Johnny Cakes, and two pieces of bacon — which don’t even make it to the plate. 

“Jesus,” Wade says, grabbing a Johnny Cake as he watches Peter shovel eggs into his mouth. There was no time to swallow before he was taking another spoonful. “That is single handedly the sexiest thing I have seen anyone in this house do; and I’ve walked in on Nat naked!” 

Widow chooses to ignore the comment, using a fork and knife to cut her Johnny Cakes — silently judging how ill-mannered her fellow spider was. 

“Slow down, kid,” Tony says, laying a hand on the back of Peter’s neck like Uncle Ben used to do. The memory slows him down, placing his utensils down only out of sadness.  _ How the hell he got eating utensils? He doesn’t know. He was too busy eating to care.  _ “You’re practically swallowing everything whole, your stomach is gonna turn upside down.”

Peter does as he asks, chewing the food in his mouth thoroughly before taking another bite.  _ God, how did someone who isn’t even human make food so delicious?  _

“So,” Hawkeye says, barely touching his food. Peter is tempted to ask if he’s going to eat his Johnny Cakes but decides against it since he hasn’t even finished his own. “Are we gonna talk about the plan to the kid, or what?” 

“Right,” Tony says around a mouth of eggs, chewing obnoxiously and swallowing before continuing on with his conversation. “I’m gonna break this up into chunks for you kid, so you don’t get confused. First thing you have to know is we kind of  _ need  _ you to do what we’re asking you too. Natasha and Clint will be working with you, but Steve, Wanda, Vision and I can’t because well…we aren’t exactly hiding in plain sight.”

“Okay,” Peter says. “We’re gonna be doing all the work. Awesome.”

“No,” Tony says immediately, glaring when Widow gives him a smirk. “We’ll also be doing work, just not on the field. The first thing we need you to do is to distract one of the head leaders of the local DNA HQ — Michael Earl.”

Peter raises an eyebrow at Tony. 

“Okay, well-”

“Let  _ me  _ explain,” Captain interrupts, making Tony quiet down, grumbling into his eggs. “Michael Earl is the head to the DNA headquarter in Queens. Their cover is up is a club called  _ The Gentlemen.  _ It’s an all around club, showing men strippers in one section, female strippers in the other; and the money spent gambling is knee-high. It’s pretty popular, and we have an agent, 212, working there for us. The plan is for you and Wade to act as if you work there - Wade and Clint will be waiters, while you and Nat to play the role of a stripper. The goal is to distract Earl and his posse long enough so Wanda and I are able to break into the back and find some information on where the head of DNA is.” 

“I thought you said they were the head,” Wade says for Peter. 

“The head of DNA in  _ Queens.  _ We have reason to believe they’re all over New York, especially since they were after you in Manhattan.” 

Make sense enough. 

“So I just have to do what my normal job is?” Peter asks, snorting. “That should be simple.” 

Natasha and Steve make eye contact, before Natasha turns to him. 

“It won’t be that simple, Peter,” she says, crossing her arms in front of her untouched plate. “It’s easy to be compromised, especially since you and Wade are on their radar. There’s a high possibility Frank and Earl haven’t met yet to discuss what happened when he went to fetch you - but there’s still a slim possibility that he has.” 

Peter sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Whatever, I’ll just follow your guys’ lead and hope for the best. When are we doing all of this, anyway?” 

“Tonight, of course,” Tony pipes in, looking over at him. “Did you think we would be going on a vacation?” 

“Yay!” Wade cheers, cheeks puffing with food. “That means Petey and I get to bond!” 

_ Well,  _ Peter thinks.  _ This can’t be the  _ worst  _ thing I’ve ever decided to do.  _

_ 12:30 PM _

Peter falls asleep sometime around ten thirty and doesn’t wake until lunchtime, his stomach already growling and demanding for food. He blinks the sleep away from his eyes and rubs at them, before going to his bathroom to find a comb to get his hair under control. After he grooms himself - fixing his hair, brushing his teeth, etc. - he wanders out in the common room where Wanda, Vision, and Wade are. 

Wanda and Vision merely look over him, but Wade - the every so enthusiastic extrovert that he is - immediately perks up at his entrance. Wanda and Vision are curled up together on the far end couch near the kitchen while Wade is sitting on the middle couch in front of the TV, with an Xbox controller in his hand. 

“Dude,” Wade says as a greeting, pausing his game. “Tinman has every game known to  _ man  _ on this thing. From Mario Kart to fucking Fortnite to fucking Fallout to fucking Call of Duty. Right now I’m playing Mario Kart against bots, but it’s pretty boring without a rival. Wanna play?” 

Wade presses the home screen button to restart the game. Before Peter can reject, a controller is being shoved into his hands and he’s sitting down besides Wade, picking a character. 

“Toad is the fastest character,” Peter claims as he shuffles through the characters. Tony sure does have everything, he even had the pack that included Legend of Zelda avatars. “He will always be a classic.” 

Wade rolls his lips, giving a  _ pft  _ sound to the smaller male’s claim. “Toad is  _ nothing  _ compared to Bowser.” 

And  _ wow,  _ that really shouldn’t offend Peter but it does. “Bullshit,” He says, not noticing the look Wanda and Vision give each other. “Bowser is trash.” 

“Then why is he fucking Mario’s bitch?” 

“First of all, never call a woman a bitch,” Peter says. “Second of all, he isn’t fucking Peach. Mario saves her like the hero he is before it’s too late.” 

“I didn’t mean Peach,” 

“Then who could you possibly mean?”

“Waluigi,” Wade says without hesitation. “You know, the author didn’t get that Waluigi and Wario were basically purple versions of Mario and Luigi before she did research to make sure she was spelling their names correctly.” 

Peter chooses to ignore the last half of the sentence, since it makes no sense. “ _ Waluigi _ ?” 

“You heard me,” is the justification. “The fanfiction on Browser and Waluigi is just - ugh.  _ Fantastic!”  _

Peter rolls his eyes and ends up picking Toad, even if he knew some of the other characters probably had better upgrades compared to the classic pack. He’s not even surprised when Wade picks Bowser and gives him a sided smirk. 

“You’re going to lose,” Peter says. 

Wade bumps shoulders with him, and even with the mask on Peter can tell he’s wearing a shit-faced grin. “Sure, baby boy.” 

Peter chooses a bike, because it’s easier and faster to navigate, and the best tires with friction he can find. Wade randomizes it before they start the race, and the smaller boy is actually  _ really  _ offended by that. 

“You’re going to do terrible,” Peter claims with a scoff. 

“I’m making a point,” is Wade’s justification. It’s already counting down by three. “I can still beat you, even with the shittiest, most random items on my person.” 

“Not if Peter doesn’t let you,” Wanda says slyly, and then their avatars are starting the race. 

Since Wade revs up his engine too early, there’s a small explosion and Browser lets go of his wheel, rocking in circles as Toad gets a speed boost and drives past him. Wade doesn’t seemed phased by Spider-Man’s first place and starts riding along Rainbow Road, slowly at first before he picks up a steady speed and is knocking the bot’s off of the road and into space as he comes up hot on Peter’s heels. 

“Shitty ride,” Wade says, knocking his knee against Peter’s. “Shitty start. And yet here I am, still beating you.” 

“You are not beating me!” 

Peter speaks too soon. As soon as he says that, a flickering blue shell is coming up behind them at a rapid pace. He whines low in his throat before slowing his character to a stop and allowing Wade and a Peach bot to ride into first and second place. Even if he’s no longer in first place - fucking  _ Wade  _ is - he still gets absolutely wrecked by the shell, and soon he’s all the way back in seventh place. 

“Gotta play better than that, baby boy,” Wade teases. 

Peter knocks his shoulder into Wade’s, even if he’s ten times smaller than him and the male barely notices it. “Don’t call me baby boy,” he warns. “I’m gonna get you back for that.” 

Toad smashes into a power-up box, and Peter almost cries when he gets three red shells. “Oh yeah,” he says with a grin. “I am  _ so  _ gonna get you back for that.” 

Peter swiftly steers Toad past a Waluigi bot and through Luigi and Link until he’s claiming third place. 

“Yes!” He cheers, trigger happy. He presses the X button and watches as the red shell smashes into the back of Peach’s bike. There’s an annoying yell that comes from the screen, and Peter is zooming past her and past the finish line. A dramatic note from a piano sounds, and he hasn’t even noticed they’ve already done three laps. 

“Peter is going to win,” Vision says from his spot, and Wanda turns in his arms to give him a nod in agreement. “By a landslide.” 

“Suck on this, Wade!” Peter yells, pressing the X button again. The red shell makes a bee-line for Wade and crashes into him - causing his avatar to rock violently and fall off the edge of the road. He giggles as he makes a sharp turn and is on his way back to the finish line. A quick glance at the map in the bottom left corner tells him he’s ahead of everyone, and Wade is being fished from space and back onto Rainbow Road. 

There’s a small amount of adrenaline that’s stimming through Peter’s veins, and sure - it’s a kids game, but he can’t remember the last time he played a fun game with a friend (coworker, but whatever) and wasn’t worrying about his rent or his job. 

Peter is about to cross the finish line when an annoyed Wade reaches over and smacks the controller out of his hand and onto the floor. Peter yelps and tries to pick it up but Wade is quicker, grabbing the controller and then steering Toad across the finish line, a giant yellow  _ 1st place!  _ shimmering across Peter’s side of the screen. 

Wanda is looking over in disbelief, and Vision doesn’t really care about what’s going on. 

Peter’s hands are frozen, as if the controller is still in hands, but invisible. 

“Are you serious?” He asks Wade, who places the controller in his lap before crossing his arms behind him. “I literally -  _ you’re such a cheater!”  _

Peter smacks the older man across the arm as if he’s a child and - leave him _ alone  _ Mario Kart is serious business! 

“Hey,” Wade says, pushing the smaller males shoulder back. “I just said I was going to win. I didn’t say how.” 

Flushed, Peter scoots away from Wade, not noticing how close they were until now. “I hate you. I hope you know I could pick you up and chuck you across the room.” 

“And I hope you know that would do me no damage,” Wade responds cooly. “And that I could decapitate you in two minutes flat.” 

“Whatever,” Peter scoffs, taking his controller off of Wade’s lap - careful not to accidentally brush against his crotch. “You’re a sore loser.” 

“I’m the one who won?” 

Peter really, really,  _ really  _ hates this guy. 

_ 5:00 PM _

Sadly, Peter ends up spending most of the day with Wade. After playing three rounds of Mario Kart which lasted about an hour, Wanda got ahold of the board games so she and Vision could spend some fun time with them. After Wanda wins at Jenga multiple times - Wade claims it’s because of her mutation, there’s no way she isn’t cheating - and Vision whoops ass in a game of Monopoly, Tony walks in with Hawkeye and Black Widow behind him. They’re all playing Cards Against Humanity, which seems to be the only game Wade excels at. 

“In a world ravaged by  _ a windmill of corpses, _ ” Peter is reading out loud, not noticing the other teammates walking in behind him. “Our only solace is  _ necrophilia. _ ” 

“Well thank god a windmill of corpses doesn’t rule our world,” Tony says, making himself known. 

Peter wants to hit himself as he looks over his shoulder and gives an awkward shrug. “I don’t know, I think it was Wade’s play.” 

“Actually,” Vision says, bringing one finger up. “It was mine.” 

“That makes it all the more creepy,” Hawkeye grumbles, and Nat gives a side eye and a smirk. 

“Well,” Tony starts, walking over to Peter and resting a hand on his shoulder. “I was wondering if you and Wade could join Nat and Clint for some one on one fighting. The best way to warm up for a mission is practice.” 

Peter raises one eyebrow. “Couldn’t we hurt each other?” 

There’s a snicker from Wade. “I don’t feel pain. Well, I do, but it’s not like...severe or anything.” 

“You don’t count,” Tony says, narrowing his eyes at Wade before giving a friendly gaze to Peter. “Nobody will get hurt, we pretty much get thrown into buildings day by day. Just go on, it’ll be fun.” 

Peter doesn’t have much to lose, he thinks as he looks at Wade who gives him a shrug. So what the hell? He’s already got the DNA on his tail.

+++

Before they start to train, Tony takes him to his lab to introduce him to his new suit. The fabric is stretchy and made of spandex, like his old one that lays buried beneath millions of college textbooks. The colors are brighter though - cherry red and baby blue. He enjoyed blood red and navy blue more, but the other technologies Stark has put in it make him forget about it. 

567 different web combinations, a heater, a communicator to the Avengers team, his very own FRIDAY - he liked to call his Karen, though - and other things he barely knew how to use. 

“I turned off the baby monitor protocol,” Tony says when Peter steps out from behind a curtain, the suit fitting him nicely. His old suit would bunch up in the back and give him a wedgie, but not this one. This one was perfect. Not that he could let Stark know that, of course. “I was hoping you would be mature enough to not activate instant kill.” 

“Instant kill?” Peter asks, tugging the mask on and looking at himself in the mirror. It was as if he was a completely different person - more stocky, but also more thin at the same time. 

“Yeah, let’s not tell you about that.” 

Peter walks with Tony to where Wade, Clint, and Natasha all disappeared to. He ends up following the man to what seems to be an observation room. They’re met by Clint, who greets them before turning to the glass. There’s a chair Peter sits on in front of the communication panel. Tony stands besides. 

Wade and Natasha are in the room before them, just looking at each other. Wade is still dressed in his suit, katanas given back to him, and Natasha is dressed in her own gear - now wielding a spear in her right hand.

Clint presses on one of buttons before speaking. “Now remember,” his voice can be heard from both the room Peter was in and the room the other two were in. “Wade can die but Natasha can’t so be  _ careful. _ ”

“No rules?” 

Tony looks down at Peter, the eyes of his suit wide. “Well there’s no rules on the street - is there, kid?” 

Peter is silent for the rest of the time. 

Natasha...does  _ not _ go easy on Wade - while Wade is forced to restrict himself. The moment Clint says go, Natasha and spinning her spear before it’s gripped in both of her hands and splintering it in half - both halves of the weapon just turning into tinier versions of its once whole self. 

“What type of technology are you creating, tin man?” Wade asks as Natasha sprints forward to him, slashing at him with the one in her right hand. Peter watches as he blocks it and then twists so he can get out of the way of the second one being aimed towards his stomach. 

Peter bites on his lip as Wade unsheathes one katana, twirling it in one large circle before making space to point it at Black Widow. 

“You sure you really wanna fight?” Wade asks, cocking one hip and placing his hand on it.

Widow smirks and stands up, twirling both of her weapons as if to mock Wade. “Yeah, Deadpool. Let’s see if you can handle fifteen minutes with a spider.”

She looks over to where Peter is watching and winks. 

Clint presses on a button, which sets a fifteen minute timer. 

“And,” He says, pressing down on the button he used before. “ _ Go.” _

It’s like the word triggers something in Natasha. As soon as Wade is clumsily slashing his katana at her she’s ducking out of the way and skidding across the ground; her daggers - can they be counted as daggers? - slice two deep cuts on the insides of Wade’s calves. She slides between his legs with ease, making him pause and turn around as she stands up to face him. 

“Are you serious?” There’s blood dripping down Wade’s legs, but when Peter goes to look at how bad the cuts are - he can see the skin stitching together. “Stark, you better make me a new suit.”

“Not like he’ll be wearing one tonight,” Tony says to Peter.

Peter gives a soft laugh, but doesn’t respond. 

“Alright,” Wade says to Natasha. “You have tested my patience.”

Wade comes at Natasha swinging, but this time they’re precise and controlled. Natasha goes to block when Wade fakes which ends in his katana slicing through one of her weapons as if it were a knife cutting through jelly. She jerks back, creating space between them before doing what she does best - fighting from the floor. 

“This is kind of boring,” Peter says to Tony, giving a shrug when the older man looks at him with disbelief. “What? If they were actually fighting, it’d be way better.” 

Clint gives the boy a side-eye before looking back to them practicing. 

Wade’s favorite move seems to be creating an ‘X’ over and over again across Natasha’s midriff. She tries to get in close in order to stop him but he ends up slicing the side of her leg; a trickle of blood being released from the skin. 

“Payback,” he sings. 

She rolls her eyes when he starts to slow down and gets in close enough to hook her leg around her arm and stop him from swinging his katana. 

“You know I could kill you so easily,” Deadpool says. “But you guys are no fun.” 

She tries to squeeze her leg to weaken his grip but fails; his free arm reaching back to grab his other katana. By the time she notices it becoming unsheathed, it’s too late. He turns sideways and presses the cool blade against her neck, pinning her in place. 

Peter gets up from his seat to stand next to Clint. 

“Is this the button that communicates with them?” Peter asks softly, pointing to one of the small black ones. 

Clint takes Peter’s wrist and moves it sideways so it’s hovering over one of the buttons beside it. Peter nods in thanks and presses down on it, clearing his throat. 

“So mutants are superior,” he says. “Can we move onto the next round now?” 

Wade takes the katana away from Widow’s neck, sliding it back into its home. “Kids got a point,” he says. “I would never kill you, but if you were my enemy, you would totally be a spider on a stick about now.” 

Natasha steps away from him, blowing a strand of red hair out of her face. “What makes you think I didn’t let you win?” 

Wade can’t respond because an obnoxious alarm goes off, blaring from every direction. Clint turns it off quickly. “Your turn kid,” he tells Peter. “Only this time, you’re going up against me.” 

Peter doesn’t want to be rude so he keeps the smirk his mouth is itching to give and nods his head. 

“This writer really must like the X-Men,” Wade says. “I mean, she isn’t wrong. The X-Men have powers. What does Iron Man have? How is money going to save you from a monster? Are you going to throw it at them?” 

“Shut up Wilson,” Tony chips in as two doors from opposite ends of the room slide up and Natasha and Wade walk in. “I could easily kick your ass if I wanted to.” 

Wade snorts. “Sure you can big man,” 

Peter goes to walk past him and hears a low sounding whistle come from the taller man. 

“Jesus, Stark,” Wade says, his blank mask staring openly at Peter’s behind. “Thank God you made that suit. I could bounce a quarter off that ass if I wanted to.” 

Peter scoffs and shoots a web at Wade; making it stick to his mouth for what seemed to be the millionth time. 

_ This kid must be into bondage,  _ a voice tells Wade.  _ I like that. _

Peter follows the path Wade walked out of until he’s turning left and entering the container like room Wade and Natasha were in before. Except...it’s different now. It must’ve been some sort of weird simulation - which means he wasn’t really watching Wade and Natasha actually do everything since it was just their bodies moving. 

He’s no longer in the Avengers tower. Now he’s in Queens, but the streets are empty. There’s a sandwich shop nearby, skyscrapers all around him, and cars lined along the sidewalk. 

“Woah,” He says out loud, looking to where he was supposed to see Stark, but instead was a Pizza Parlor. “Mr. Stark, can you see this?” 

“No, kid,” Tony’s voice says, except it’s loud and echoed as if he were speaking from the sky. “I had this specifically built so only the people inside could see the stimulation. Everything in there feels real, but only you can see it. You can explode stuff, throw things, do whatever. Kind of like Charles Xavier’s cerebro, except...fighting!” 

“Charles Xavier is way better,” he can hear Wade’s muffled voice somewhere. “But pop off sis.” 

“Since this is your first time doing this,” Tony keeps on going. “I’m going to knock the minutes spent up to twenty. Have fun, and don’t get hurt.”

“Wait - where’s Hawkeye?” 

There’s a dead silence, and Peter knows he’s been left alone. He lets out an annoyed grumble underneath his breath and starts to walk forward along the empty road. The sky looks black, and the wind is cold. 

“Hey, Karen?” He asks out loud, turning around and looking upwards. “Do you sense anything around here? My spidey senses aren’t working, I guess.” 

_ No, Peter  _ comes the animated voice from within his suit.  _ I am sorry.  _

“It’s fine,” He says, continuing to walk. “Hey, Hawkeye!” He yells, jumping up and down, waving his arms. “Where are you?” 

There’s no response so Peter huffs, pointing his wrists at a building and shooting a web so he can swing forward and stick onto the wall. When his hands and feet meet the sturdy ground, he guesses Stark was right about everything feeling weird. He wonders what he looks like right now, to them. He imagines himself floating in air and gives a laugh. 

He scales the walls easily before he’s on the roof, squatting down. 

“Guess Hawkeye is afraid of spiders.” Peter laughs. 

Then there’s a sharp tingle on the left side of his head and he turns - hands swiping out to grab an arrow. 

“Or maybe I just like distance,” Hawkeye’s voice says. Peter looks at the arrow in his head, his senses still going off of the charts. “I would put that down if I were you.” 

It’s too late. Right as the arrow is about to go off Peter throws it off of the building - shooting webs at it so the explosion is little. He shoots another web and finds himself across from his building, having to turn midway to dodge another arrow that finds itself lodged in the ground beneath him. Peter lands steadily on the side of the building as he did before and climbs, and if he hadn’t peaked his head over the roof in time - he wouldn’t have seen Clint’s figure shadowing behind a chimney. 

_ Got you,  _ Peter thinks, before he’s scaling the building and hopping over to the next. Another arrow skims past him, and he catches it with no effort before throwing it back towards Clint’s direction. It nudges into the architecture of the chimney and Clint is forced to jump, duck, and roll out of the way. As he does so, Peter remembers one of the web combination’s Tony had made for him. 

“Hey Karen,” He says quickly. “Give me electrical web shooters.” 

_ Right on it, Peter,  _ she says. 

Peter aims for Clint’s bow as he stands. A normal strand of web comes out but the moment it’s attaching to its target a strong bolt of electrical currents wave through the web for two seconds. Peter whoops in victory as Clint collapses to the floor, heart rate drastically elevated - at least according to Karen. 

“You sure can’t do anything but shoot, can you?”

Clint gives him a dirty look as the world around them fades away, everything melting downwards until they’re in a blank white room. Peter walks over and rips the web away from Clint - tossing it over his shoulder. 

“That was boring,” Wade sings from the intercom. 

Peter almost forgot that bastard existed. 

_ 8:30 PM _

“We need to get going,” 

Peter is running a towel over his hair since he deemed it necessary to wash it again to make himself feel cleaner. Now, he’s wearing clothes that Wanda had given him - a cotton blue t-shirt and jeans. 

“I just got out of the shower,” He tells Tony, who’s dressed in every day. “I thought the mission was going to start around eleven?” 

“Yes,” The older male says, reaching over to flick a wet piece of hair from his face. “It does, but we need to set up shop, now let’s go. We can't take the Escalade, sadly, since it is far too luxurious for who you’re characters are supposed to be so we’re taking a truck. Steve is driving, Nat and I are up front, and you, Wade, Wanda, and Clint are all gonna be in the back. Sound great? Awesome.” 

Peter looks over to Wanda, who gives him a shrug before focusing her attention back on her boyfriend. 

“We’ll be doing that one day,” is how Wade greets Peter, tossing an arm around his shoulder as he gazes towards the couple who are kissing. “Possibly even by next week.” 

The smaller male rolls his eyes and smashes his elbow into Wade’s side, following Tony’s way to the car. 

+++

Peter is tucked in the furthest corner of the back end of the truck, holding his knees to his chest and looking towards the right so his hair doesn’t blow into his face. Wade - thankfully - was all over Clint, pounding him with questions, while Wanda sat crisscrossed quietly, mending small balls of energy in her hands to take her mind off of things. 

Tony had gone all over the plan again - Nat and Peter were strippers, Wade and Clint were waiters, and their goal was to distract Earl in order for Steve and Wanda to get some information in the back. 

“You’re going to have to change when we get there,” Steve tells them. He looks up in the rearview mirror and makes eye contact with Peter. “Are you comfortable with doing this?” 

“I’ve done it for a year or so now,” Peter says, shrugging. “Stripping and getting groped by seedy men in an ugly club is more natural for me than being a superhero is.” 

There’s a tight look on Steve’s face, and he gives a curt nod since he doesn’t know how to respond. 

“I wish I could strip,” Wade says to fill the gap of silence. “Hey, Clint. Would you like a lap dance from me? It can’t be too hard.” 

Peter scoffs at the idea of a stripper and tucks his head away, pretending as if he were ten again, eating Aunt May’s meatloaf and laughing as Uncle Ben makes a snowman out of mashed potatoes. 

_ 9:02 PM _

When they arrive, Agent 212 meets them by the side doors. 

“I need you to get changed in the bathroom,” She says to Natasha and Peter, slipping them both a small bag with clothes. “And I’m sorry to inform you Mr. Wilson, but the mask has to go. These men know who you are, so go get changed into normal clothes and Hawkeye will give you the busboy outfit.” 

Wade gives a dramatic sigh, slumping over. 

“It’s dark,” Peter offers, giving him a shrug. “And if anyone says anything, you can just punch them out. Who gives a shit what anyone else thinks?” 

It’s easy to say coming from someone who doesn’t have burning scars on every inch of his body, but Wade seems to feel comforted by the fact he was on the correct spectrum of comfort, so he counts it as a win as he walks away to get changed.

+++

The outfit is tight, and it’s not the type of tight his Spider-Man suit gives him; it’s tight that makes his balls have no circulation within them whatsoever. It’s basically a two-piece naughty Cat-Woman suit. He’s wearing a mask over his eyes as dark as night, a small leathered purple top that only covered his chest and bared the rest of his torso, and tight booty shorts that allowed half of his ass to be seen. 

“My ribs are about to break,” he tells Natasha, adjusting his top - if it even was considered a top. “Hey, did she give us shoes?” 

Natasha got the better end of the deal. It was a dress that was wired in crisscrosses, and there was a v-line from her shoulders, crossing over her breasts, and resting over her crotch. Mostly skin was revealed, but she seemed more comfortable in her outfit so Peter couldn’t help but feel jealous. 

“Yes,” she says, straightening out her outfit and pulling high-heels out of the bag. “She did.” 

Peter’s feet were smaller than hers. Go figure. 

+++

Natasha and him have to split since they work different sections of the club. Wanda and Steve are out in the truck waiting, but Tony is sitting in the men’s section to keep an eye on Peter. They all have communicators in their ear, so they can hear what’s happening all along. 

“Just act as if you work here,” Tony says, making eye contact with him. “Survey the grounds, get some dicks wet. Earl’s men are mostly around the bar, so go there.” 

Tony’s words earn him a distasteful look from both Natasha and Peter, but nonetheless, they follow directions as ordered. 

He learned a while ago keeping his back straight and his head up will earn him a lot of attention, and every time, it always seems to work. As he walks to the bar slowly, men and women’s eyes sweep over him; taking in the mile long legs and the lithe muscles that move beneath his skin. He meets eyes with one of the men at the bar, and from Tony’s confirmation, it’s one of Earl’s men. Peter gives a dazzling smile, which earns him a finger indicating him to come to the man. 

“Yo, Pete,” Wade says through his ear. 

“What?” He breathes, trying not to move his mouth since the man is still looking at him. 

“If any of these dudes give you a hard time, just tell me.” Wade pauses. “I may be making jokes, but consent is the number one policy for me.” 

And if that doesn’t just make Peter’s heart sing. 

He doesn’t respond to Wade, but he knows Wade can tell from the silence that he’s grateful for the help he’ll be  _ if  _ one of these guys crosses him. 

The man isn’t unattractive - Peter had dealt with worse. He seemed like a classic Italian stereotype; skin tanned, legs long, black stubble aligning along his chin, black hair slicked back, and he absolutely reeked of cologne. Right as Peter came close his legs were spread as if the boy were going to sit on his lap. 

He doesn’t though, getting close enough for the man’s stench to waft into his nose but leaning over the counter of the bar, jutting his hip out. 

“Hey, sweetie,” the man greets, reaching out to place a palm on Peter’s hip, dragging a thumb over the soft patch of skin shown. He rests it there and presses in; which only makes him jerk only slightly. “I’m Jordan. What’s your name?” 

“Pete,” Peter says, and he can practically see Widow rolling her eyes as his  _ fake  _ name. “My stage name is Arachnid, though.” 

“Ah,” Jordan’s thumb moves away from his hip and he casts it downward - gently shaping out the curve before letting his hand gesture towards the bartender. “A Flamingo on the Rocks, please.” There was already a whiskey in the man’s hand, half-drowned. 

“For me?” Peter asks, watching as the bartender hastily pours hot pink alcohol into a martini glass, filling it almost all the way to the top before hastily and clumsily setting in a mini umbrella before sliding it his way. He grasps the top of the glass, bringing it to his lips and taking only a taste of the liquid. He was more of a wine man, but this was alright. 

“Nothing but the sweetest for the sweet,” 

God, could this man get any cornier? 

“So you mentioned a stage name,” he’s practically pinning Peter down with his heavy eyes. “Arachnid, very sexy. When do you go on?” 

_ I don’t see how spiders are sexy,  _ Peter thinks.  _ I feel like Wade was probably the one to pick it out. Natasha’s stage name is  _ Little Red.  _ God, I want to die.  _

“I go on around ten-ish,” Peter shrugs. “Again at eleven and then again at one.” 

“Big time hop,” Jordan claims. “I’m going to have to get all my boys to come see this beauty. Hell, I’ll even invite my boss.” 

“That’s it,” Tony’s voice starts in the deep ends of Pete’s ear. “You have him. It’s endgame now,” 

“Your boss, huh?” Peter reaches over and flicks a piece of dust off of Jordan’s shoulder before gently curling his hand around it. “Who is he?” 

“Mr. Earl,” Jordan says, breath hitching and the smaller male shuffles closer towards him. “He owns the bar, actually, but rarely leaves the back to come and see anyone unless it’s something special.” 

A smirk crosses Peter’s lips. “Am I special?” 

“You’re more than special,” and suddenly, Jordan is reduced to a teenage boy riled up on hormones, ready to cream in his pants. “You’re  _ perfect. _ ” 

“You should show how special I am to your boss at ten then,” Peter says, reaching out and tugging on the tie around his neck, twisting with soft fingertips. “And after, you might even get a free dance.” 

He can see the man’s Adam apple bob visibly and he gives a small nod. “Of course, yeah. Yeah, I’ll do that.” 

“Good job, Pete,” Tony’s voice says when Peter winks at the man and struts off to walk around and mingle with other people. “Now we know for sure he’ll be distracted. While you’re performing, Steve and Wanda are gonna enter the back. Now just...do what you would normally do, then.” 

Peter rolls his eyes.

“Can I pay for a lap dance?” Wade asks, and Peter looks over his shoulder to see him mindlessly throwing trash into a can, his head down but bald and scarred head prominent underneath the lights. “You know if you’re into the scars.” 

“I’m into the scars,” Peter says, and he isn’t lying - he doesn’t mind the scars. If anything, they make Wade more of himself. “I’m just not working lap dances right now, ‘Pool.” 

“Fuck,” 

“Language,” Steve’s voice cuts in on the feed, and Peter wonders why he hasn’t heard anything going around them. “Peter, don’t give them lap dances. Tony’ll pretend to buy you first and then we’re getting you out of here, okay?” 

Peter sighs. He was hoping to make an easy buck off of that sleaze. “Alright,” he says. “I got it.”

_ 9:54 PM _

Agent 212 has made him watch through three of the opening strippers of the night. It was fairly early, but a stripper's job was an all-night job - starting from 9 PM to 3 AM; filled with pumping blood, pulsing hormones, and sometimes sex if the boss allowed it or if you were sneaky enough. Peter had sex with one of his clients only once, and it was an old friend from high school who had transferred freshman year. Careful not to get caught, he went to the man’s place. A night of hardcore fucking and a morning of frenzy and being screamed at by a girlfriend he didn’t know about, he promised himself he would  _ never  _ have sex with a client - no matter how much the offered or begged. 

“Earl’s in the crowd,” Tony says in his ear. “Make sure Peter’s on stage before you do anything. He keeps looking around bored, but I’m sure the nutcase obsessed with our Arachnid will force him to keep eyes on the stage all night. I hate to say it kid, but you’re going to have to seduce the fuck out of this guy.” 

Peter nods his head, even if Tony can’t see him. 

“Don’t do anything you aren’t comfortable with,” Steve stresses. “You never have to do anything if you aren’t comfortable with it.” 

“I’m good, Cap,” Peter mumbles, taking the edges of his shorts and hiking them over thin hip bones. His ass was his greatest feature, as he had learned in his year of working at Jonah’s nightclub. It’s “fat” and “juicy,” while the rest of his body is miles of lean, tight skin. He didn’t at all see the appeal, but hey - whatever floats your boat. 

Unless you’re that one guy who asked to pee in his face. Seriously, fuck you Richard. 

There was a long pause of silence and soon a woman was all over Peter - wiping concealer over his oily pores and running her fingers through his hair and leaving it thoroughly tousled.  _ Beautiful,  _ he can hear her mumble under her breath as she steps back. Then she’s fixing his outfit, touching him in untouchable places before she smacks his ass and shoves him towards the stage. 

He didn’t appreciate it, but that’s just how this business worked. 

Peter shakes his legs slightly, stretching out his shoulders and shaking his legs to push his nerves down inside. Over the course of time, he’s managed to ignore the fact he’s erotically dancing for men to basically jerk off too and found a space in his head he can resort to in order to dance yet be disconnected. 

As soon as the dancer before him walks off, he finds his feet carefully gliding towards the stage - making their own path as he clears his head of any distractions. 

_ 10:04 PM  _

Peter is hot. 

Like,  _ smoking  _ hot. 

He’s the hot pizza you get at the parlor and eat automatically before it burns your tongue and makes you scream in pain. He’s a hot pocket (pizza edition) that also burns your tongue. A spicy chimichanga on a Tuesday afternoon or stale flaming hot Cheetos Wade liked to eat when he had nothing else left in his house. Those are shitty metaphors to describe how hot Peter is, but he’s sure you get the point. 

When Peter walks on stage, he  _ owns  _ it. The minute half-lidded almond-shaped brown eyes flick up and a body made of long limbs and tan skin starts to walk, the entire audience is silent. The song is from the Fifty Shades of Grey soundtrack (go figure) but it  _ works.  _ The song is slow and teasing, just like he himself is. 

A man walks past, tapping on Wade’s shoulder; asking for a drink. The mercenary just smacks him away and walks closer to the stage, leaning against a chair and forgetting all about the fact his bare, scarred face was open for everyone to see. 

Peter’s steps were long and crossed, and Wade wished he was allowed to lick his neck because oh  _ boy  _ does that kid have a nice fucking neck. 

He walks up to the pole in the middle of the stage and one hand reaches out and grabs it gently, a shy smile and bite of the lip asking the audience if it was okay to keep going. Wade’s knees suddenly feel weak so he spins the chair in front of him around and straddles it. 

Steve in his ear starts talking about getting into the back, so he reaches up and mutes his communicator so he can focus solely on the boy on stage. 

Peter grips onto the pole and allows his body to hang off of it for a moment; baring thin muscle to the crowd. It’s kind of weird, but it still makes Wade want to fuck the shit out of him. When the beat changes the boy is moving again; bringing himself in close to the pole before sliding down; reaching behind him and pulling his shorts down enough to see the skin on the curve of his ass before snapping back up and pulling his shorts back up with it. 

One hand still on the pole, he circles it - eyes watching the crowd like a predator, hoping nobody knows what his next move will be. By the time he’s done a full run, he’s facing everyone in front of the stage. Peter reaches one hand up, pressing the hand to the pole, and then his other hand reaching downwards. Wade images himself as the pole - one of Peter’s hands on his face, while the other gently touches his hip to bring him in close. 

A loud whistle is heard when Peter gently starts to grind his ass backward, hesitant as if he’s a virgin. Then he’s sliding his top hand down the pole slowly, his mouth open slightly in a beautiful moan unheard to the crowd. When he’s finished, he flips himself over, hands in front of his chest and gripping onto the pole as if it’s his lifeline. He brings his lower body down and hikes his lower body up - flashing a nice image of his round ass that gets men in the crowd desperate to touch themselves. Along to the beat of the music, he brings himself back up until he straight - looking over into the audience and flashing wide eyes before gliding both of his legs outwards, gravity pulling him down into a split. 

“Shit,” Wade says, and he can feel his hard-on pressing against the wooden chair. He really hopes nothing dumb happens with Steve because he  _ needs  _ to see this about as much as he needs air to live. 

The voices in his head are silent as Peter falls onto his back, legs still spread wide open as far as they can go, which is...pretty far. He arches his back upwards and bends his knees, eyes closing in bliss and mouth closing into a content smile. Wade, and pretty much everyone else in the audience, wishes they were in between those legs...preferably inside him. 

Peter snaps his legs closed and then rolls sideways and onto his knees, landing on all fours. He smiles lewdly and then sits back on his legs, crossing his arms and gripping onto the ends of his shirt before pulling it off slowly and teasingly. 

He wasn’t a woman, so there wasn’t really a surprise - but something about the way he took it off, flung it to the side, and then licked his lips before slowly rocking back into a squat really did it for him. Once he was back near the pole and gripped one hand at the base and started to climb. Muscles flexed as he pulled himself up halfway, legs tangled along with the pole. 

Now, Wade knew Peter was strong - but he didn’t know if it was exactly  _ legal  _ for the man to use his powers for such...sexual activities. 

It looked effortless (and probably was) when Peter swung himself upwards and was suddenly upside down on the pole; legs wrapped tightly above him as his back pressed into the pole and one arm hung freely. Adjusting himself subtly and to the tone of the song, he slid down slightly before grabbing one leg - most of his weight now pressed onto his hand which was gripping so hard it was turning red - and pulling it back until it met with his shoulder. 

He paused, allowing himself to take in all the breath taken yells, whistles, and chants for more, before putting it back and then pulling himself up. He went back down into a split, and Wade...seriously couldn’t believe this kid was human. Well, he was a mutant or something like that, so it isn’t very shocking, but like...seriously? What the fuck? 

When the next song start, Peter made his way into the crowd, licking his lips and eyes roaming over everyone. Wade sighs when Peter picks Earl to grind on - telling the man to keep his hands to himself as he rolls his body in inhumane ways, and rolls his hip in a satanic manner on his lap. After two minutes of that, he’s onto the next man in the crowd, bending over and teasingly showing more skin before covering it back up. Then he’s going back onto the stage as the song dies out and walking off - as if he didn’t just steal Wade’s heart and make him cream his pants entirely. 

_ 10:30 PM _

Because of Peter, the mission went fine. 

Steve and Wanda were able to go into the back and only had to fend off two or three guards with ease before Wanda was able to hack into one of the mainframes of Earl’s computer and download all of its content onto a USB drive; leaving undetected. Tony, demanding Peter be congratulated for the amazing show he gave and the awesomeness that is Steve Rogers unlocking a computer, decided to take them to anywhere they wanted to go. 

Peter wanted to go to a sandwich shop nearby that reminded him of an old one he used to go to till it was burnt down, and Steve and Wanda  _ demanded  _ Tony take them there - whether it be less fancy than what he had in mind. Natasha and him were now in more comfortable clothing - both sporting a hoodie and sweatpants. Clint was, as well, but Wade had greedily pulled his costume back on - squeaking in joy as he entered the car in tight spandex with large katanas hanging off of his back. 

Peter couldn’t understand why Wade wore it all the time, yet he could at the same time. The main reason he wore his Spider-Man mask when he  _ was _ Spider-Man was not only to hide his secret identity but also so his fighters wouldn’t see the pain or fear that crossed his face when he was in battle. He guessed he could relate to Wade in some way since he always still felt that itch to pull his mask back on. Then again, his face wasn’t covered in scars. 

It was easier for him than it was for Wade. 

That’s why it made judging him so hard. 

“You know,” Peter starts the conversation with Wade casually as everyone files into their respected bathrooms. They’re the only ones who stayed sat at the table. “I used to wear my mask all the time, just like you.” 

Wade snorts, leaning over the table and crossing his arms. He looks directly at Peter, at least Peter thinks he does. All he sees is a mask looking at him with no emotion. “You know,” he starts just like Peter did. “Your face is cute. Kind of chubby, innocent looking. Everyone wants to see your mug. Mine? It’s gross. Looks like it went through a shredder. I hardly believe you wearing a mask if the same reason I wear one.” 

“I don’t think you’re ugly,” Peter says, putting a hand underneath his chin and pressing down onto it. “I like the scars.” 

“Fetish much?” Wade asks, copying the boy. “Also, that’s you baby boy. I’m not taking my mask off for some random spider that will be exiting my life within a week or so.” 

“Who says I won’t keep in touch?” 

Peter doesn’t know if he means it, but there’s a flutter in his stomach when he remembers Wade watching him and the way he worked the pole - large goofy grin taking up his face. The scars were apart of him. They made Wade, Wade. And Wade was...kind of awesome. Even if Peter has known him for a day and got on his nerves endlessly. 

The Avengers come back from the bathroom and Peter winks at Wade as they settle into conversation, ignoring the heavy eyes watching him from behind a heavy mask.

 

_ 12:02 AM _

The Avengers, along with Wade and Peter, had arrived at the HQ half after eleven. 

Peter was asleep by 11:55. 

A scream was heard from his room 12:02. 

Wade, and the rest of the Avengers; tucked away in their soundproof room, wasn’t able to hear the scream - or the struggle that came after it. 

_ 8:00 AM _

Vision is the first one awake. 

He heads to the kitchen to make Wanda a breakfast. 

“Good morning, FRIDAY.” He says to the empty kitchen. 

The AI, who normally responses with utmost cheer, is silent. 

Vision cocks his head to the side but thinks nothing of it. 

_ 8:15 AM _

Wanda is up next. 

Steve behind her. 

Then, Natasha and Clint. 

The headquarters is silent. 

_ 8:30 AM _

All of the avengers are eating breakfast. 

Wade and Peter are the only ones still sleeping. 

_ 9:13 AM _

Wade wakes up and goes to the kitchen. 

“Good morning, everyone!” 

There’s a grumbled response and it only takes one sweep of the table to realize Peter isn’t up. “Where’s baby boy?” He asks. 

“Sleeping,” Tony mumbles around his fork, before paying no attention to the subject. 

“I’ll go wake him,” Wade claims. Sleeping in too much always makes you wake up feeling light headed and grumpy. 

Wade skips to the boys guest room and opens the door, which surprisingly isn’t knocked. The smile on his face is dropped with he sees spider webs splattered everywhere, the bed sheets knocked off the bed and tangled on the floor, shattered furniture, and most importantly - no Peter. Wade searches the room top and bottom, hoping it’s some weird nesting side effect from his spider abilities. 

He’s given silence. 

_ 9:34 AM _

Peter wakes up strapped to a table, with the doctors standing above him. The restraints around his wrists are made of leather, and he could so easily force himself out of them - except he can’t feel his arms. Or his legs. Or anything, really. He can only see the doctors standing above him, and feel the ghost of touches across his skin. 

One of the doctors above him looks down, and he notices the side of the face that’s melted. 

Frank’s gloved hand reaches up and pulls the mask downwards, showing his face and giving off a large and wide smile for Peter to see. “Hey, Doll. Don’t worry about the whole show you put up when we met. That show last night was truly impeccable. And you’ll be given to one of the nicest DNA leaders soon, so we’re just gonna spice you up, okay? Don’t worry.  _ Everything is going to be alright. _ ” 

_ 9:54 AM _

They’ve known Peter has been missing for little less than an hour. 

They’ve known FRIDAY’s systems have been shut down for the entire night, and morning. 

When Wade comes in and flings himself at Tony - they all know something is wrong. One hard hook punch and Tony nursing a black eye later, Steve calls for FRIDAY to play feedback. Only there’s no response. Steve tries two more times before there’s a loud annoyed grunt from Tony. 

“They must’ve gotten into her systems,” Tony states, standing up and placing the frozen peas on the counter. “I don’t know  _ how  _ without tripping the alarm, but I should have her up and running in no time.” 

He said that at 9:23. Now? It’s almost ten, and he has yet to get FRIDAY’s stations up and running again. Swallowing his pride after all of them demand him to get help, he gets out his phone to call a friend from Wakanda. 

“Steve, I want you to look at what’s on the USB we got from Earl’s place last night. Search Peter Parker or Spider-Man, or Wade for that matter, and just read everything you can find.” 

“Got it,” Steve and Wanda walk over to Tony’s computer and Steve pulls out the USB he’s had in his pocket for a majority of the night. 

Wade, surprisingly, is silent. 

_ 10:30 AM _

They operate on him while he’s awake, so he can see anything, but there’s some sort of chemical in his body that allows it to go numb. The ceiling looks dirty as if it belongs to some abandoned warehouse. There are millions of cracks in the ceiling, and Peter can’t help but be paranoid that it’s going to fall on him. 

They open up his stomach. 

He doesn’t know what they do, but he knows they open up his stomach. 

The sight of a hand reaching in to touch his organs is enough for him to force his eyes to stay on the ceiling. 

_ 10:45 AM _

When Tony gets off the phone with Shuri, FRIDAY’s systems are back up and he’s ignoring the fact she knows his system better than he knows his own systems. 

“FRIDAY,” Tony calls, and there’s a small flicker of neon lights in the mainframe as he greets Tony a hello. “Who was here last night? Why weren’t any of my alarms tripped?” 

“I-I don’t know, sir.” 

“You don’t know? Jesus Christ. You know what, show me the video footage from guest room AB from the inside and out.” 

A small hologram is projected from his glasses, and everything is normal; except, nothing happens. The video footage is all the same. He rewinds it, fast-forwards, and nothing happens. It’s just Peter, sleeping. Only he couldn’t have been sleeping because he wasn’t  _ here  _ anymore and his room showed a large sign of a massive struggle. Frustrated when FRIDAY says this is all the footage he has, he leaves her be and goes to check on Steve. 

“Tony?” Steve asks, not looking away from the computer. Wanda’s face is settled hard, eyes scanning the report in front of her. “Are you sure the DNA want to improve their powers?” 

“That’s the only common factor in all of the people they’ve experimented on,” Tony pauses. “Why? Is there something different?” 

“On Peter’s file it doesn’t say they want to expand his powers, or even amplify it...it says they want to  _ combine  _ his powers with another mutant. A born mutant to be exact. The mutants file is Mutant 212, but it has little to no information in it.” 

_ Fuck,  _ Tony says. “Okay, if I know anything about the DNA, it’s that they work fast. I don’t need to know anything about Mutant 212, all I need is where Peter is being held. Just - fucking get me a sight of where he is, Rogers.” 

“Got it.” 

_ 11:32 AM _

When Peter wakes up again, he’s in a bed. He can feel his body again, except it doesn’t hurt. If anything, he’s felt the best he’s ever felt in a very long time. He eyes the room warily. It looks like a prison cell. And from the urinal in the corner, and the shitty dresser beside it, it probably is. He sits up and looks down at himself. He’s wearing clothes, so that’s a good thing. It’s small on him, practically painted to his stomach, but nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. 

He throws his legs over the bed and stands up; wagging his toes. Nothing new there. Afraid he suddenly looks like a spider, he runs to the mirror only to see the normal Peter Parker staring back at him - soft and tousled brown hair, almond eyes, and a small freckle resting on the base of his chin. 

Peter then looks down at his wrists, to see if he somehow managed to have his web-shooters still with him, and was met by two oval curved holes protruding from his skin. 

“What the fuck?” He asked himself. Hoping he doesn’t explode, he pressed down onto his wrist and watches as a clear, semi-white web comes out of it and spreads onto the wall. 

Then he remembers they cut open his stomach. 

Hastily, he pulls his shirt off and looks down. There is a thin scar leading from the tip of his belly button all the way to the bottom of his chest, but it isn’t nasty - it’s slightly puffy, but nothing else. It’s not angrily red, but calm and pink. 

Peter shivers when he touches it and then looks back into the mirror. 

A door opens behind him, and every nerve of his throws him into defense mode. The minute he goes to turn on Frank and web him to the wall so he can possibly escape a flood of electricity goes through him and he crumples into a ball on the floor before the overly unbearable stimulation finally settles. 

“Poor thing,” Frank says, getting on one knee beside Peter and running a hand through his hair. Peter doesn’t move when a small golden remote is shown to him. “You think we wouldn’t find a way to get the great Spider-Man in line? Doll, you must be stupider than you think.”

“What did you do to me?” Peter whispers. He isn’t the same person Frank met before - demanding, confident; cocky. He’s smaller than he was before the surgery but oh, far greater than he was before. “Please, what did you do?” 

Frank picks up Peter bridal style and can sense the spider’s brain going nuts from an enemy touching him. He doesn’t hurt Peter though, and he doesn’t touch him inappropriately in any type of way. He just carries the small boy to the bed and lays him down; before taking one finger and gently brushing it up and down the scar on his chest. 

“We use Mutant 212’s DNA and mixed it with yours. Honestly, doll, do you pay no attention? He was on a bed just beside yours.” Peter closes his eyes while the man talks, reaching over to his wrist and rubbing it. “We gave you the healing capability of a God, while he got your incredibly brute strength. Don’t worry, though. You both still have the same powers as you did before, just now...incredibly  _ advance. _ ” 

“I liked my powers the way they were,” Peter growls. 

Frank, not liking his attitude, grips at the boy’s cheeks tightly and knocks his legs open to settle in between them on the bed. “Darling, we gave you the ability to heal within seconds and were kind enough to shape your own biological web-shooters that turns your overly produced blood into webs. We are far more scientifically advanced than you know, and we only want you to be the best you can be.” 

“It doesn’t matter what you want me to be,” the boy whispers. “Because when Wade and the rest of the avengers find out I’m gone, they’re going to come after me, and they  _ will  _ end you.” 

Instead of a shocked reaction, Peter receives a loud, hysterical laugh. 

“Wade Wilson? Come for you?” Frank is laughing so hard he has to reach up and wipe away an invisible tear. “You two aren’t some sort of thing, are you?” 

“No,” Peter says.  _ He just flirts with me a lot and looks at me as if I’m a God and I kind of wish he were here with me right now because for the past two days we’ve been in the same boat and while I hate him cheating in Mario Kart, I would give anything to be by his side again.  _ “We’re friends.” 

“Butt buddies more like it,” Frank gets away from Peter, who lets out a relieved sigh when his legs are shut and there isn’t a warning of rape in his future. “It won’t matter though, honey. How many times must I say this to you?” 

Peter is silent. 

Frank sighs, frustrated, and walks over to the bed again. This time, he sinks on the small edge and reaches out to run fingers through his hair - almost like a mother saying goodnight to her child. “Wade Wilson kills for money. He’s apart of the X-Force, not the Avengers. He would never come for you in a million years because this whole time, he’s only been out to save himself. He’s selfish, Peter. I need you to get that. The DNA will protect you, but you must work with us in order for us to do so. After all, you’re one of the few who’ve survived what we do in the stomach to combine powers. You’ll not only be the head’s boy but my boy as well...and I do treat my boys very well.” 

Peter doesn’t want to be anyone’s boy. 

“Think it over,” and, just like a mom would, Frank kisses his forehead and leaves. 

_ 11:41 AM _

“They’re holding him in one of their warehouses,” Steve tells Tony. “At least, in the email, it says he’s supposed to be undergoing surgery at this location.” 

“Suit up,” Tony tells them. “I want everyone with us - especially Vision. Nobody is to leave the warehouse except for  _ us,  _ understand? I’ll notify FRIDAY when to call authorities. Wade, while we hold off everyone, I want you to be the one to get Peter.” 

That’s...kind of shocking. “Why?” It’s the first thing Wade has said since breakfast. 

“Because you care about him, or some crap,” Tony says it as if he’s describing a food he dislikes. “You’ve been sulking all day and it’s kind of weird.” 

“Fair enough,” Wade says. “But I get to kill anyone in my way, right?” 

Tony pauses for a moment, sharing a look with Steve. After a second or two of just  _ staring  _ Steve looks to Wade. 

“You aren’t apart of the Avengers,” Steve says. “You’re X-Men territory. So I’m assuming if anyone asks…?” 

“I have no clue who you guys are,” Wade says, hint of him grinning in his voice. “I’m just here to save a stripper I fell in love with - kind of like Pretty Woman.” 

“Not really,” Tony says. “But good answer. Now, let’s  _ go  _ before Peter ends up with eight legs and is able to spit venom!” 

_ 12:03 PM _

Peter is alone in the room for a while before the air conditioning kicks in, causing him to huddle under the thin, raggy blankets that were provided for him. This was what his life would be like, now. No more Tony Stark luxury, or playing Mario Kart with Wade. It was only thin blankets, bared chests, and wishing his healing factor was more mental than physical. 

+++

After Peter is curled into a tight ball, gaining some sort of warmth, someone comes in. He tightens his grip on the blanket and hopes they don’t move him since he just got comfortable. 

“Don’t get too comfortable,” A New York accent tells him. Peter forces him and his thin cocoon to roll over, facing the door. The man has a fake tan so it looks orange, a cigar is hanging from his mouth, and his fat hangs almost to his knees. “I gotta take you to the big boss. Now unless you want this ugly mug to carry you around, I would suggest you get up and walk, princess.” 

Peter doesn’t want to face the cold air again so he unwraps himself from the cocoon and turns it into a cape, clenching it tightly in his hands. He’s taller than the man, and ten times skinnier. The man doesn’t say anything as he gives a huff from his cigar and walks out the room, Peter following obediently. 

He’s led out of multiple cells just like his own, some inhabited by others, and up the stairs where there are  _ nicer  _ cells. The door the man takes him too is locked, so he has to knock on it. Frank is the one who answers it, his face lighting up at the sight of Peter. 

“Doll-face!” He cheers, opening up his arms and pulling the boy in for a hug. He stands there for a moment and every fiber in Peter’s being is screaming to be released. When he lets go, he has to stop himself with the thought of what would happen if he did punch him. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to get up here.” 

“It was only three minutes,” the man behind him says. 

“Shut up,” Frank snaps, before resting a hand on the small of Peter’s back. “I want to talk to Peter here, no run along. Don’t come up here under  _ any  _ circumstances.” 

That sends alarms wailing through Peter’s head, but there’s nobody there to help him. The man gives a curt nod and leaves, off to do whatever he has to do. 

“Now,” Frank says, pulling Peter close to his front. “I have to go over the rules with you.” 

Frank pulls away from him and goes to sit on his bed. Peter stays standing where he is; clutching the sheet closer to his chest. “Be a dear and drop the blanket.” 

Peter’s breath hesitates and when Frank notices he isn’t moving he waves his remote, silently threatening. Cold air brushes up against his skin as the blanket falls to the floor, and his body is bared for Frank, who leers at him with delight. 

“You answer to me,” Frank starts with me. “For now. Your other owner, who is my partner, will be here whenever he wants to be here. You will answer to him as well but to nobody else. If not, I will use this-” he dangles the remote from his fingers and Peter’s wrists itch to shoot out and web him and his dumb torture device to the wall. “Will be used.”

Peter chews at his lip, waiting in silence for the man to respond again. 

“Take off your pants.” 

The demand slices through the air and Peter’s heart drops. 

_ You answer to me,  _ the boy sadly thinks as he looks at the remote. Huffing, he looks down and unstrings his pants; causing it to slide down long legs and pool at his feet. He’s wearing the same boxers he wore before, lose but nicely fitted. Peter curls his feet into the opening and kicks them away from him. 

He’s done this for men before at work - danced erotically for them, stripped down to the bone...but this, this was different. Non-consensual. Forced. 

“The second rule is I can do whatever I want with you,” Frank opens his legs and pats on his thigh. Peter walks over slowly and winces when the man grabs his arm harshly and forces him to sit in his lap. One rough hand curls around his leg so he’s resting horizontally on the man’s lap while the other gently runs down his face. “And God, last night? You sure gave me some ideas. I’m going to spoil you rotten; give you everything and anything you want, even when you don’t want it...But you have to be a good boy, Pete. Follow all the directions, do all your missions. Will you be my good boy, doll?” 

Peter doesn’t speak, but nods his head. 

His voice is stuck in his throat.

_ 12:23 PM _

It’s honestly easy getting into the warehouse - but Wade thinks that’s only because they make themselves known. It’s located in the middle of a ‘Yee-Haw I’m Jimmy Cowboy!’ field; surrounded by tall wheat and dead grass. There are trucks all over the place - some tipped over, and others homed by DNA workers. When they pull up, it’s almost an immediate response; bullets flying, and people alerting the security that  _ uh, sir? The Avengers are here. Yeah. Yeah, they’re kind of mad. Yeah, we’re shooting at them. Keep going? Alright, but I don’t think this is gonna work. Yeah? Yeah, okay. Alright. Bye. _

“Way to make a scene,” Tony says, voice muffled by hard metal. Steve is cowering by him, Wade and him tucked behind his shield. Wade gets a bullet caught and he cusses, digging into the hole and throwing it onto the ground.  _ Mother-fuckers.  _ “Vision, go high. Don’t let anyone leave the warehouse unless it’s us. Clint, Nat; go and find the mainframe and download the database content onto the usb I gave you. Wanda, Steve; you go right to find Pete, Wade and I will go left. Any questions?” 

“Yeah,” Wade says in a sickening, fake sweet tone. “Can we get this over with? I want my sugar booty back.” 

And then he’s going out into the open, two handguns firing shot after shot at whoever gets in his way. 

+++

Frank gets Peter straddling him when there’s a small beep on the watch around his wrist. He groans in agony and presses on one of the beads, causing a voice to flood into the air.  _ Uh, sir? The Avengers are here.  _ Peter hides the warmth that blossoms in his chest and bites his lip instead, sitting back and ignoring the lump that digs into his rear. They were here. More importantly,  _ Wade  _ was here. 

After rigorous demands over the phone, Frank lets out a frustrated growl and all but flings Peter off of him - causing him to tumble onto the bed and land on rough hardwood tile. The shot of pain that presses up his tailbone is gone as quickly as it comes. 

“You’re coming with me,” Frank says, walking over to his wardrobe and pulling out an AK-47. Very nice choice of weaponry, Peter thinks. Especially when the Avengers can disarm that very easily. 

After Frank slides on a white mask with black watercolor dripping down the front and a bulletproof vest, he forces Peter to snuggle up under one arm and starts to leave the room they were in. 

“Wait,” Peter says, tugging on the bottom of the man’s vest. “What if I get shot?” 

“You’ll heal - now keep it going doll, I’d rather you not spend the rest of the night healing when I have shit to do to you and people to see.” 

Peter huffs to himself and they continue to leave. The hallway is filled with the screech of blaring alarms, and DNA employees hustling in and out of their cells. 

“Sir, they’ve already entered the building,” one of them shouts to Frank, tossing one gun over their shoulder while they grip onto a nicer one in their hands. “I would get the boy underground until this all blows over. If they don’t see him, they’ll probably leave!” 

Frank growls and in all the commotion, Peter realizes the remote that controlled whether or not he received a shock or not was in the man’s back pocket. As Frank hastily takes him downstairs, Peter quietly slips his arm around the man’s waist and pulls the remote out from his pocket, unnoticed. 

The moment they’re downstairs, there’s a flash of red and Frank is being blown away from him, Iron Man hovering in the hallway across them and Wade standing beside him, katana clenched in his hand. The moment Frank gets up Iron Man and Wade are coming towards them. 

Peter runs to Wade and presses his arm into the man’s shoulders, causing him to stop. 

“Wade,” he breathes. There’s some conversation between Frank and Iron Man going on behind him but it’s nothing but a mere white noise around the flurry of activity. “You’re here.” 

Wow, that was a dumb thing to say. 

“Yeah, I am,” Wade sounds about as taken aback as Peter does. “Listen, I would really love to have a conversation about us declaring our sudden love for one another, but I kinda need to kick this mother fucker’s ass for laying a hand on you."  


A smirk crosses the man’s face. “What makes you think we’re going to declare our sudden love for one another? You haven’t even taken me on a date yet.” 

“Fair enough. Hey -” there’s a gun that goes off and a dark patch of blood spreads along Wade’s ribcage. He turns around and lifts his own gun to the DNA worker who tried him and fires it; bullet going straight through his brain. Wade cusses at the dead corpse before turning back to Peter. “I was thinking, maybe when I save your ass, we could totally go on a date.”

Peter scoffs and reaches up and run his fingers along the bottle capped shaped metal that’s stabbing into his neck. “I need you to rip this out of my neck.” 

“Hey guys,” they hear Tony yell. Wade looks over Peter to see he’s wrapped up in metal bars that burn at his metal. “Can you have that heart to heart later? I need some help here.” 

“Got it, boss!” Wade says, even though he just looks back down at Peter, grabbing his bare arms and rolling his thumbs in circles. “Are you sure it won’t hurt?” 

“Just do it!” 

Peter screams in pain when Wade rips it out of him, a three-inch cord following out of him. “Go,” Peter wheezes when he falls to his knees. “Just go, I’ll be fine in a minute.” 

Wade reluctantly leaves him. 

“Hey, jackass!” Wade greets as he skips over to Frank. “Can’t believe you took down Iron Man, but he should be good in a second. Anyways,” 

A katana slashes across Frank’s face, causing him to jerk his head to the side as if he were just slapped. The man grunts in anger and rips the mask off him, showing his face. 

“Wow, seems like you went through the Devil’s shit hole just like I did!” 

Wade goes to slice across his body when Frank blocks, sending a wave of tingles up his arm. The taller man lets go of the blade and lets it fall into his other hand, moving to stab upwards only for Frank to jerk back and go around Wade to smash his head with his own before reaching his arms around to choke him backwards. 

“Never bring your fists to a sword fight,” Wade manages to choke out before pointing his katana upwards and digging the sharpened ends into the man’s arm. He sucks in a breath of air as the man peels back as if burned by fire. “Don’t fuck with baby boy - or else you’ll get burned.” 

“Jokes on you,” Frank says. “I have a way to keep him in line.” He goes to reach into his back pocket but comes up blank. 

“You mean this?” 

They turn to look at Peter, who is standing - still half naked - with the remote dangling from his fingertips. 

“I don’t like being  _ tased,  _ sir.” 

Peter shoots one web at Frank’s eyes and then the other at Frank’s ankles; twisting them so he slips onto his back. The man grunts and uses his hands to grip at the webs, but it does them no justice - all Peter has to do is to continue webbing him until the man is in a cocoon. 

“Great going Pete,” Iron Man says from beside them. “But could you maybe help me out of these spider claws? Thanks.”

“The alarms are still going off,” Wade says, watching as Peter kneels down next to Tony; grasping the metal and trying to rip it off before it electrocutes him. It takes a couple of tries before Tony is bursting out of the metal, his suit crackling and dented. “What are we gonna do with him?” 

Muffled cries echo from the webbed cocoon. 

“Take him with us,” Tony says, his helmet peeling back to reveal his sweaty face. “We can interrogate him. Get more information on the DNA.” 

“Do I get to go home now?” Peter asks, picking up Frank easily. Tony attaches two mini-jets to the top and to the bottom; turning Frank’s body in a horizontal position as it hovers in the air. As Tony walks, the body follows. 

“Yeah,” Wade butts in, sheathing his katanas and running up to the left side of Tony. “I kind of hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I have to take a cutie out on a date.” 

A masked face winks at Peter and he raises one eyebrow. “Who said I was going on a date with you?” 

“I did.” 

Tony starts to talk, distracting Wade from the wide smile Peter can’t suppress. 

“Possibly,” Tony says. “We’ll gonna talk about it when we get back. For right now, we just need to get him back to the HQ.” 

Peter sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. He’s now reminded of the fact he’s almost naked. “Can I get clothes as we do so?” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

_ 2:20 PM _

Peter helps Tony dissolve the webbings and make sure Frank is sedated before isolating him in one of the high-security cells they have in the HQ. It’s purely white, surrounded by warped glass. Peter stands in between the Captain and Stark, looking into the glass where Frank is oppressed by a straight jacket and shackles around his ankles. He wasn’t a mutant - just a highly trained, military leveled human. He didn’t get why he had to be under so much security. 

“He would’ve raped me if you guys didn’t come sooner,” Peter says out loud. “I think, at least. He made me straddle him when I was half naked, but I wasn’t scared...I barely remember what happened, if I’m honest. I’m used to doing that sort of stuff, but I don’t know. I don’t know.” 

Steve claps a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it in comfort. “I’m glad we got there on time then. You know, if you need any type of resource - Tony here will help you out. If he’s being a dick about it, come to me. My door is always open.” 

That somewhat makes Peter feel better, but after realizing the situation he was in, having it sink in...he thinks it’s time to get an actual  _ job  _ where he isn’t naked all the time. 

“Do you wanna be here when he wakes up?” Tony asks. 

“No,” Peter says. “I think I’m going go to the kitchen and have a meal before leaving. I kind of want to see my aunt desperately, at the moment.” 

“That’s fine,” Steve says. “Remember to wear the watch Tony gave you. We’ll know where you are at all times, and if you’re in any danger, just press on the side and FRIDAY will give us an alert.”

Peter thanks them one more time before trudging into the kitchen. He had already changed - this time into an AVENGERS hoodie, and a pair of Wanda’s sweatpants she didn’t want anymore that fit him. Wade is standing in the middle of the room. For once, not in his Deadpool attire. He’s wearing a white long sleeved shirt and pajama bottoms, and when their eyes meet, Peter smiles. 

“You know,” Wade says. There’s an opened sandwich in front of him, a knife slathering mustard onto the bread. “Normally when someone looks at me and my skin isn’t covered, they go running for the hills.” 

Peter shrugs, digging his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie before walking over and sitting on a stool across from the older man. “Well, I’m not somebody. I’m practically nobody.” 

“You’re like, the greatest hero alive.” 

A snort fills the room and instead of mocking laughter, Wade grins. “That was cute.” 

“It was ugly,” Peter insists. “And I’m not the greatest hero alive. I believe that title is reserved for Mr. Charles Xavier of the X-Men.” 

“Do you know him?” 

“Nope,” he responds. “But I wrote a report on him a while ago. Everything that’s public...I think he’s a good soul. All he wants is to help others, but those people just hurt him or betray him. If I had to pick someone other than him? It’d probably be Captain. Always fighting Stark tooth and nail to do good, from what I’ve seen.” 

“For sure.” 

They sit in silence as Wade finishes off his sandwich, sliding it towards the younger boy. He raises an eyebrow but the older man is already grabbing more bread with rough hands and starting a new one. 

“So,” Wade says as Peter takes a bite into his sandwich. “About that date?” 

The smaller male continues to look at his food as he flushes, forcing himself to chew faster. “Dunno,” Peter says when he finally swallows. “Where would you take me?” 

“Five star restaurant,” Wade starts, setting his supplies down and leaning forward on his hands so his face is a mere inch away from Peter’s. “We get great food, then we can go back to my place.” 

“Your place?” Peter asks, voice laced with disgust. 

“For Mario Kart, duh.” Wade pulls back to work on his sandwich again. “Then we can watch a movie - whichever one you prefer.” 

“And how would you find me?” He teases. “I’m pretty sure I lost my phone.” 

“I’m a mercenary,” Wade says with a wink. “I’ll always be able to find you.” 

Peter just smiles and takes another bite of his food.

_ 3:40 PM _

Peter says goodbye to rest of the team, and when he goes to Tony, he’s met with a Spider-Man suit being shoved in his face. He rests a hand against it and pushes back. 

 

“Woah, Tony,” he says with a quick laugh. “As much as I love the suit, if I’m going back to being Spider-Man -  _ if  _ \- it’s going to be with my suit. That is just...It’s more Iron Man. And while I’m a huge fan, Iron Man just...he isn’t me.” 

Tony doesn’t seem to catch on. “You love my suit?” Is all he responds with. 

The younger boy rolls his eyes and gives the man a hug. “Bye, Mr. Stark. I’ll see you when I see you.” 

Right now he’s heading down to the main lobby with Natasha, a bag with only the clothes he borrowed stuffed inside of it. 

“So,” Natasha says when they stop at the front of the doors. “You and Wilson?” 

“Me and Wilson,” Peter says, with a shrug. “I don’t know. He’s cute.” 

“You find him cute?” 

The boy is slightly annoyed at her judgemental tone. “Not all of us are supermodels, Nat.” 

She raises her hands up in surrender, giving a shrug. “I guess. Just, don’t get too attached.” 

Peter rolls his eyes. “I’ll  _ try,  _ I guess.” 

She gives him a hug and says a quick good-bye and allows him to walk outside and onto the sidewalk. Tony had tried to force Happy onto him, insisting he makes it home safely with his trusted driver, but Peter refused. It would be better if he just took a cab and went home like a normal person. 

Right as he’s hailing a taxi, he hears someone call his name from behind and turns to see Wade - no mask, no coverage,  _ Wade.  _

“You never told me what day to pick you,” he says, running over to Peter, who has a taxi pulling up to the pavement for him. 

“You’re a dumbass,” Peter says, cupping a hand around Wade’s neck and lifting up on his tippy toes to kiss Wade on the cheek before turning around and opening the taxi door. 

He throws his bag in, and then pauses before he goes to sit down. “Surprise me,” 

There’s a dumbfounded look on Wade’s face as the taxi pulls away from the Avengers HQ. 

“Yeah,” Wade says, reaching up to touch where the boy had kissed him. “I struck gold.”


	2. BONUS SMUT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- First chapter is the entire and completed fic. 
> 
> \- This is the bonus chapter
> 
> * SMUT BEWARE! *

_ ONE YEAR LATER _

It was raining.

Peter sat on the top of his roof, navy blue hoodie tossed over his head to shield him from the rain. His bare legs dangled off the side of his apartment complex building, raindrops rolling off of tan skin as he stares down at the city of New York below him. His camera was cradled in his hands, and he was glad he invested in a camera proof case because now he was safe to take photos like this.

He stopped stripping only to get a low-end job at the Daily Bugle, where he wrote (mostly) about the crime affecting New York, and also the vigilantes (superheroes) who lived within it. He hasn’t taken to putting his Spider-Man suit back on and helping out, even if Tony Stark has called him multiple times to do so.

The DNA was still out there, apparently. Now Charles Xavier was on the case though after popping by to give Stark a taste of his own medicine.

Peter only having the stress of his normal job. He liked staying up late studying or writing essays and loved dealing with his shitty boss at the Bugle. It was normal, even if he knew all the top named superheroes he wrote about in the paper.

The young boy smiles to himself and fiddles with his camera, bangs hanging low in his face.

“You know,” a voice says from behind him. “You do well with the whole angst story-line, but I would prefer if you were inside - away from the chance of getting pneumonia.”

Peter rolls his eyes and swiftly turns so he’s straddling the edge of the building. One slip and he’d plummet 200ft. He was fine, though. The DNA made sure he would always have webs to count on. “You know,” he retaliates. “It’s very rude to not message your boyfriend and telling him you’re back home from a job.”

Wade slips his mask off of his head, giving Peter one of those lopsided dumb grins he knew his boyfriend adored. “I wanted to surprise you, sue me. I haven’t seen you in a week and both my heart - and dick - are aching for you.”

The younger man snorts and turns so he can safely get up and start walking towards his lover. They meet halfway in the middle and soon Peter’s head is buried in Wade’s chest, fingers combing through softly conditioned hair.

“I missed you,” Peter says, slipping his eyes shut. It was moments like these he was glad he wasn’t Spider-Man. If he were Spider-Man, he wouldn’t be in Wade’s arms. He’d be swinging around Manhattan, battling low-end thugs and saving old ladies cats from their trees. While Spider-Man was great, Peter just can’t handle it. He wanted to be with Wade.

The mercenary squeezes around Peter’s waist before hauling the boy up and over his shoulder, giving his ass a small pat.

Peter groaned in annoyance as he’s carried into the elevator so they could return to their apartment.

“Why can’t you just let me walk like a normal person?” Peter asks Wade’s thighs, which is the only thing he sees.

“You’re my princess,” he says. “I must carry you as such.”

Wade takes them into the front door of their apartment - Peter waving awkwardly at their across the door neighbor - all the way to their bedroom, where he gently places the smaller male on his back before climbing over him.

Peter’s always had a thing for how big his boyfriend’s hands were, and the fact he was two times smaller than him. He smiles as Wade kisses him softly and unzips his sweater and pulls it off in one swift motion. Peter curls a hand around Wade’s neck, deepening their kiss.

“I love you,” Wade says as he pulls away from the boy’s lips to press more along his jaw, mapping it down to his collarbone. “So soft.”

“You’re wearing spandex,” Peter says, reaching down to grip at the zipper along Wade’s back. He had asked Tony to make him a new one because it was hard to have sex when it took over fifteen minutes to get Wade’s suit off, but also because Wade liked how Peter’s suit was designed and also wanted one like that. “I hate spandex.”

He grips at the zipper and pulls it down until he meets the curve of Wade’s ass, where the zipper ends. Peter runs his hands up Wade’s backside and curls at the top of his suit, pushing him away so he can tug the top part off of his upper body. Once it’s off, Wade steps off of the bed to shake the suit off, and soon he’s climbing back on top of his boyfriend in only a tight pair of boxers.

“I love you,” Wade breathes again as he takes off Peter’s top and starts pressing kisses along his stomach. “God, I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Peter says, and the room starts to get hotter as his shorts and underwear are yanked off of his thighs. He whines deep in his throat as Wade spreads his legs and starts to press kisses along the inners of his thighs, getting close to his hole but never quite touching it. “How come I’m always naked before you are?” 

“Because you’re beautiful,” is Wade’s half-distracted reply.

“You’re beautiful too,” Peter says. Wade, not wanting to have the whole  _ you’re pretty, stop calling yourself ugly  _ conversation, gently licks over the boy’s tight, cleaned hole. A gasp comes from above him, and Peter’s back arches slightly as both hands scratch at Wade’s scarred head. “ _ God. _ ”

“I’m not God, baby,” Wade can’t help but say, earning a hard thrust from Peter.

Wade reaches up to spread Peter easily, circling the boy's hole with his tongue. He enjoys the small moans and pants that come from his boyfriend and is soon easing the appendage into the ring of tight muscle which makes Peter’s thighs tremble. He can feel it clench around his tongue and he closes his eyes as he curls his tongue inwards.

“Fuck,” Peter whimpers as Wade brings a finger to join his tongue. “ _ Wade. _ ”

Peter Parker was a God. At least he was to Wade. 

 

As he gets eaten out, he flushes all along his chest and thighs, bringing his fingers up to his mouth to keep himself quiet. He ruts against Wade’s face like a shy virgin, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he does so. When Wade deems him both wet and loose enough, he pulls away and sits up to peel his boxers off.

Peter latches onto him excitedly, shutting his legs and adjusting himself so he’s laying on his stomach; hand gripping the base of Wade’s cock as the head stares at him. He licks his lips before looking up at Wade as if asking if he were allowed to suck him off. His answer is rough and calloused fingers trailing through his hair and tugging him closer.

Peter starts from the bottom up - licking and sucking at Wade’s heavy balls before dragging his tongue up Wade’s long and thick shaft, making eye contact as he kisses the head.

“Fucking tease,” his boyfriend tells him as Peter continues to press kisses along Wade’s dick. “I’m gonna fuck you senseless for that.”

The boy pulls away and his slick, shiny pink lips form into a smirk. “I thought you would fuck me senseless anyway,”

Wade tugs at his hair. “Just suck my dick,” He pauses at Peter’s hard look. “Please?”

He’ll talk to him about the attitude later, but for now, Peter was open, and desperate since he’s only had his own fingers to keep him company since Wade’s been working.

When he first gave Wade a blow-job, he almost threw up from how much space he took up in his throat. But that was little over six months ago, and Peter’s become a pro since then.

He kisses the head one more time before sinking his lips down Wade, humming low in his throat as he takes him all the way to the root. He reaches down to grab his own cock, which is begging for attention, running a thumb over the tip as Wade grips his hair and pushes him back so he can thrust into Peter’s throat - drool falling along the side of his mouth and down his chest. The sounds of Wade’s cock slamming into the back of his throat fill the room, and Peter is rutting into his hand, sending vibrations deep from his throat to try and send Wade over the edge.

Overstimulated, Wade peels Peter off of his dripping cock and rolls the boy over so he’s on his back, looking up to him as he settles in between his thighs. Wade leans over and presses a harsh kiss to sloppy lips as he forces Peter’s legs open and pulls away so he can aim and soon sink deeply into the boy.

Peter moans softly and digs his nails into the man’s shoulder as he’s stretched open, breath hitching as Wade buries himself until he absolutely can’t anymore. His thighs tremble as Wade grips his ankles and presses his legs backward, baring his entire body to him.

“I fucking love your flexibility,” Wade says, and Peter can feel a pulse come from within him. “I fucking love  _ you,  _ like God, baby boy...I’m so glad Tinman got me to recruit you. From the minute I saw you, I just...I knew I wanted to pound your ass in.”

Peter’s hole clenches around his cock and he bites his lip. He’s too horny to make a snarky remark, so he lets it slide and waits for Wade to start moving. He lets out a small whine as Wade pulls out slowly, all the way until just his tip is settled within him, and then slams back in. Peter lets out a small moan and his nails scrap down Wade’s back, feeling his skin scrape underneath his nails.

“Go,” Peter says, arching his back to push down against Wade. “Make me  _ feel  _ you.”

“God,” Wade curses underneath his breath and reaches down to nip at the boy’s neck, making him bite his lip and hum low. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Don’t know,” he says. “Don’t care. Fuck me,”

Wade starts off slowly, pulling out and thrusting in gently; listening to the small whines that came from him as if he were listening to music. He transitions into a faster pace easily, kissing Peter as he grips his ankles tighter, pushes down and starts to pound into him as if his life depends on it.

Peter gasps around his mouth and tosses his head back into the pillow, eyes rolling to the back of his head as Wade fucks him with reckless abandon. 

“Say my name,”

Peter moves his hands so they’re resting at Wade’s hips, enjoying the shot of pleasure that trails up his spine as his prostate is brushed against.

“ _ Say my name. _ ”

“Wade!” Peter cries, now desperately needing something to hold onto. He curls his arm around his neck and clenches so the man can’t move. “Wade, please.”

“Please what?”

A particularly hard thrust sends Peter over the edge and he ejaculates all over his stomach, causing Wade to slow into a stop.

“Get on your knees,” Wade demands.

Peter obeys, swinging his legs over the bed and collapsing to his knees as Wade stands above him. He slaps his cock against the boy’s cheek and smears Peter’s own spit over his face, allowing the boy to close his eyes as he does so.

“Suck,”

Peter takes Wade in his throat as deep as he can, forcing himself not to gag as his throat makes room for the thick appendage. Wade tugs at his hair and feels his cock pulse as he releases himself down the boy’s throat, groaning as he does so. Peter’s eyes water as he swallows the load like the good boy he is, unable to taste the salty sensation until Wade pulls from his throat and wipes the remains on his tongue.

Wade lifts Peter’s spent body onto the bed and scoops the boy's cum off of his stomach and feeds it to him; a greedy mouth clenching down around his fingers and sucking off as much as they can before the boy falls into a deep sleep.

When the morning comes, Peter will ride Wade lazily before cooking pancakes in only Wade’s shirt and there will be nothing but love and bliss.

_ Perhaps this relationship was the only good thing to come out of the DNA,  _ Peter thinks as Wade kisses the side of his mouth as Peter cleans dishes, tasting of waffles, syrup, and sausage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For any questions, comments, concerns - 
> 
> follow me on Tumblr @ blackbanther.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Follow my Tumblr: @blackbanther and message me for any questions, comments, or concerns.


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